


All I Ever Wanted

by nsyncgrrl



Category: Music RPF, NSYNC, Pop Music RPF, Popslash
Genre: 1990s, 2000s, Angst, Boyband, Celebrities, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 46,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsyncgrrl/pseuds/nsyncgrrl
Summary: A loooooooooooooooooooooong story that begins with a broken heart and ends with forever.Justin and Lance from NSYNC find love at the height of their fame that, at times, threatens the future of the band. Later chapters feature Chris/Joey, Joey/JC, and JC/AJ McLean pairings.There are 225 chapters in all (the story is complete at 424,029 words).
Relationships: Lance Bass/Justin Timberlake
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Letter from Home

**Author's Note:**

> Basically the story that started it all. This is a very long (and complete) saga I wrote over a period of two years starting in late 1999. It has NOT been updated from the original (so there's no modern technology, I'm sorry!).
> 
> Originally posted to Nifty Archive and then to my website, Forever.

Justin climbed up into the tour bus, the dark coolness refreshing after the bright sunshine outside. Peeking over the front seat, he looked down the length of the bus, waiting a moment as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Along the back of the bus were the band's beds -- two bunks, one above the other, on either side of the bus, and one bunk along the back. Justin squinted into the darkness but couldn't see that far. Cautiously, he called out, "Lance?"

He heard a sniffle from the back of the bus. "Yeah?" came the thick reply.

Justin leaned on the cool metal in front of him. "You okay?" he asked.

Another sniffle. Just when he thought he wouldn't get an answer, Justin heard a small voice say, "Just peachy."

Sighing, Justin climbed the rest of the way into the bus, leaning on the door release and pulling the folding doors closed behind him. Earlier their manager had handed out mail -- mostly from their families, a few fan letters, some K-Mart ads, nothing much. But Lance had gotten a small, pink envelope that set him smiling, and Justin wondered who it was from. After reading it, the smile had fallen from his face and Lance retreated to the safety of the tour bus, not saying a word. The rest of the band was inside the restaurant, eating lunch; only Justin had thought of going after Lance. _He's so nice to everyone,_ Justin thought, making his way down the aisle. _If anyone hurt him --_ He left the thought unfinished, afraid of where it would take him. Lately when he thought of Lance, he found himself pushing those thoughts away. But they had known each other for so long ...

Reaching the back of the bus, Justin looked down at Lance, sitting on the edge of the solitary bunk. He held the pink envelope and one single sheet of stationary in his hand. With the other hand he wiped at his eyes. "Lance?" Justin asked softly, fighting the urge to run his fingers through his friend's short blonde hair to straighten it. "You okay, man?"

Lance looked up, his eyes teary. Seeing Justin standing above him, Lance sniffed loudly and wiped the sleeve of his shirt across his eyes roughly. "I'm fine," he said, his voice husky with emotion.

Justin bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Pointing to the bunk, he asked, "Mind if I sit down?"

"Go ahead." Lance scooted over slightly and Justin sat down beside him. There wasn't much room, and Justin was uncomfortably aware of the warmth of Lance's leg where it was pressed against his own.

Nodding at the letter in Lance's hand, Justin asked, "Wanna tell me about it?"

For a long moment, he thought Lance wouldn't answer. Then he sniffed again and sighed. "It's from Becky," he said. Justin remembered Lance mentioning her -- a girl from back home, whom Lance had been seeing when time permitted. Unfortunately, that wasn't often enough, and Justin knew that the long time spent on the road discouraged relationships. Lance scrunched the letter up in one hand tightly, the thin paper ripping easily. "She's ... she met this guy."

 _Oh no,_ Justin thought. Unconsciously he put an arm around Lance's shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered. Lance leaned into him, putting his head on Justin's shoulders, and began crying again. Justin hugged him close. "Sshh," Justin crooned, rubbing Lance's shoulder and rocking slightly to comfort him. "It's alright. It's okay."

Lance clutched at Justin, his hands grabbing fistfuls of his sweater, hugging him tightly. When the tears tapered off, Lance sighed deeply but didn't let go. His face was buried in Justin's chest, and Justin could feel his breath through the thin sweater he wore. It was a warm, pleasant sensation, and Justin tried to ignore it. Lance laughed bitterly. Speaking into Justin's shirt, he admitted, "I didn't even like her all that much. It's just the fact that she ... well, it was nice to think that someone somewhere was thinking about me." He looked up at Justin, his eyes red but dry. "You know what I mean?"

Quietly, Justin said, "I think about you all the time."

Lance studied him, looking for ... something. Justin met his gaze steadily, afraid to blink or smile or do anything to frighten him. "Do you?" Lance asked softly.

Justin found himself staring at Lance's full lips, his upturned face, his light eyes. Against his will, he leaned forward, lips parted slightly. Lance closed his eyes, and Justin pulled him closer.

A loud knock on the back of the bus startled them. Abruptly, Lance pulled away and Justin stood up, looking around. Even though the windows were dark, blocking out prying eyes, Justin couldn't stop the pounding of his heart. Lance crumpled up the letter and shoved it under the mattress, and then he looked up at Justin, a guilty expression on his face. "You feeling better?" Justin asked gruffly.

Lance nodded. "Fine," he said, straightening his shirt. Justin hurried to the front of the bus to open the door, but glanced back at his friend. Lance was watching him with a strange look on his face. Running a hand nervously through his curly hair, Justin opened the door for the other band members.

But his arms still ached with the memory of holding Lance close.


	2. A New Dance Step

In front of them, Darrin moved easily across the matted floor, his feet hitting the ground in time with the music, his back to the band. He watched them in the large mirror in front of him, counting off to the music as he taught them the steps of the dance. Chris and Joey were goofing off a little, adding in their own twists and turns. JC and Justin had a nice rhythm going, keeping up with the choreographer with ease. But Lance seemed to be a beat off -- he wasn't concentrating on the music or the steps. His eyes were downcast, not watching the mirror.

Truth be told, Lance was watching Justin. The younger boy was in the center of the room, directly behind the choreographer, and Lance couldn't take his eyes off of him. The way his jeans tugged against his thighs, the way his shirt pulled up slightly, exposing tanned skin, the way the muscles in his arms stood out from the strain of the dance. Lance loved to watch Justin, especially when they were dancing, because then Justin didn't know he was looking. The music washed over him, unheard, as he watched Justin. He wanted to just stand still and lose himself forever in the motions of his body.

But then the choreographer twirled, the others following suit, and Lance tried the move but wasn't paying attention to his surroundings and his feet got tangled up on the mat, pitching him off balance. He stumbled to one side and bumped into Joey. "Hey!" Joey cried, smiling. "Watch your step, boyo." Playfully, he pushed Lance back into place.

Lance staggered against JC before managing to stop. A slight blush crept into his cheeks -- he felt Justin watching him, and suddenly he wanted to die. JC must have seen the look on his face, though, because he looked over at Darrin and said, "Maybe we can take a break?"

"Thirty minutes," Darrin said, cutting off the tape. The music died, leaving the room suddenly very quiet. The studio door opened and the others shuffled out, calling loudly to each other and horsing around, but Lance just stood there, hand to his head as if trying to gather some semblance of control, and waited for the embarrassment to pass. _Damn it!_ he thought, cursing himself silently. _Just ignore him! Don't let him get to you like this._ He hated the way Justin made him feel, lost and afraid. Why was that? They had been friends forever, it seemed, but recently he found himself watching Justin openly, wondering how he would feel in his arms, pressed tight against him. Dreams of stolen kisses haunted his nights -- why couldn't he just stop all this madness?

"Lance?" Justin's voice was soft, concerned. Lance almost groaned. _Why didn't he leave with the others?_ he thought, running a hand through his short hair. "It's okay, man," Justin continued, coming to stand next to him. "We all have our off days."

Lance laughed. "I'll be okay in a minute," he said, hoping Justin would just leave. He was aware of how close his friend was standing, and Lance had to wrap one arm around himself, holding his chin in the other hand, to keep himself from reaching out for him. He looked at the ceiling and blinked back the dampness in his eyes, and waited.

But Justin wasn't one to just leave a friend in need, one of the reasons Lance liked him so much. Touching his shoulder gently, Justin offered, "Maybe we can practice together, just you and me. Maybe you'll be able to get back in sync then."

Lance looked at Justin, the wide grin on his face making his blue eyes sparkle at his own joke. He could lose himself in those eyes. Shaking free from their spell, Lance said, "I don't know. The others --"

Justin shrugged. "They're at the snack machine by now. Maybe it'll be easier if no one else is watching."

_No one but you,_ Lance thought bitterly as Justin crossed the room and closed the studio door. For extra measure he turned the bolt. Smiling at Lance, he said, "See? They won't be able to distract you now. C'mon, let's work on the moves."

Justin clicked on the tape and came to stand on the mat, taking a spot beside Lance. The music was loud in the studio, and if Lance didn't look at the mirror he could pretend that he wasn't really watching Justin. Justin watched Lance's feet as they moved in time with the music, counting out the steps like Darrin did. Lance found the music flowing through him, and kept up with Justin's rhythm easily. "You're doing good," Justin said as they started the twirl that had tripped him up before. "Just needed to work the kinks out."

And then Lance caught a glimpse of Justin in the mirror as he turned, and he saw Justin's shirt stretched taut against the tight muscles of his stomach, and Lance lost whatever concentration he had. Stumbling, he knocked into Justin, who caught him with steady hands. Warmth spread out along Lance's shoulders and back where Justin held him, and Lance twisted away quickly. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Justin studied him for a moment, but Lance didn't meet his gaze. Then Justin said, "Run through it again. I'll see if I can spot where you're going wrong."

_God,_ Lance groaned inwardly. _He wants me to dance for him!_ He didn't know if he had the courage to do that. So instead he shook his head. "It's okay," he said. "My feet just get tangled up, that's all. I'll work on it a bit."

"No, come on," Justin prompted. "I won't laugh."

"Justin, I can't," Lance said, his voice pleading. He turned towards his friend, his eyes troubled, and hoped he wouldn't have to explain any further. _Please,_ he prayed, _please don't make me -- please._

Justin looked at him thoughtfully, unconsciously biting the inside of his lower lip, a trait Lance found infuriatingly sexy. Closing his eyes, Lance wished Justin would just leave. He didn't trust his feelings right now.

Instead, Justin came over and stood behind Lance. "Well, maybe if I guide your moves," he suggested, placing his hands on Lance's hips. One side of his shirt had pulled loose from where it was tucked into his jeans, and Lance felt the flame of Justin's touch against his bare skin. As Justin's strong hands guided him into the dance, Lance closed his eyes and submitted to the moment. Behind him Justin sang along with the music, the words barely audible under his breath, fanning the back of Lance's neck. During the more strenuous moves, Lance felt Justin press against him, and he hoped the pleasure of his touch didn't show on his face. But Justin kept up the dance, never letting go of Lance's hips for more than a beat or two, and when the twirl came, it went off without a hitch. "See?" Justin said, turning Lance around to face him. Lance opened his eyes and looked into Justin's beaming face. "Nothing to it."

Justin's hands were still on his hips. They were so close, Lance could feel the warmth of Justin's breath against his face. He studied Justin's curls, kinky and coarse, because he was afraid to meet his friend's eyes. "Nothing to it," he whispered, his voice suddenly husky.

And then he moved back suddenly, anxious to put some distance between them. He felt Justin's leg brush against his, and he stumbled back, falling over a low bench and landing flat on his back on the matted floor. Justin's fingers were laced in Lance's belt loops, and as Lance fell back, Justin was pulled down as well. He landed on top of Lance, his head bumping against Lance's forehead. Reaching up, Lance rubbed his forehead with one hand, the other hovering in the air just behind Justin's head. "Ow!" he said, laughing.

Justin disentangled his fingers from Lance's belt and rubbed his own forehead. "Ow is right!" he laughed, shifting into a more comfortable position. Lance was uncomfortably aware of how Justin's body fit snuggly against his, and he shifted a bit, hoping Justin wouldn't realize how aroused this was making him. With a contented sigh, Justin spread his hands out on Lance's chest and set his chin on top of his laced fingers, looking directly at Lance. His frank gaze was unsettling. Lance laid his head back on the floor and sighed. Neither of them said anything, but Lance felt Justin's body gently pressing against his own, and he prayed for the strength to resist touching his friend.

Suddenly Justin ran a finger down Lance's nose, tracing its curve. Lance started at the gesture, and blinked at the earnest way Justin stared at him. "Justin," he began, trying to sit up, but his friend held him down.

"Shh," Justin admonished. He ran his finger down Lance's nose again, this time not stopping at the tip. Instead he traced his upper lip and ran across his cheek, along the bone. The touch tickled slightly.

Lance pushed up again, harder this time. "Justin, stop it," he said, suddenly angry. He didn't think he could control himself much longer if his friend persisted in these innocent touches. He didn't trust himself to stop there.

Justin sat back and let Lance sit up. A hurt look crossed his face. "I didn't mean --" he started, but Lance ran a hand through his hair nervously and said, "I know, it's my fault --"

Justin still straddled Lance's legs, but the look on his face kept Lance from pushing him off completely. Those sad large eyes, filled with confusion, that perfect mouth turned into a slight pout, those thick eyelashes -- Lance sighed again. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean --" When Justin looked up at him, hopeful, Lance smiled. "It tickled," he explained, hoping that was enough.

A mischievous grin slipped across Justin's face. "Tickled?" he asked wickedly. "Why didn't you say so?" And then he attacked Lance, his fingers digging into the older boy's stomach. As he tickled his friend, Lance's shirt came out of his jeans, and his bare stomach was an easy target for Justin. Together the boys laughed, Lance trying to get out of Justin's grip, Justin overpowering his friend and keeping him pinned to the ground. Soon they collapsed to the mat, lying side by side, exhausted and spent. Lance laughed once as Justin rolled over and leaned above him, and then he saw that serious look in his friend's eyes again and he hoped that the others returned soon.

"I've seen you watch me dance," Justin whispered. Lance started.

"What?" he stammered, his heart racing.

"I see you in the mirror," Justin continued. One of his hands found its way to Lance's chest, his fingers intertwining with Lance's. "You watch me move."

Lance tried to shake his hand free, but to no avail. Justin hung on tight. "I watch everybody --" Lance started, but Justin smiled.

"It's okay," he said, laying his head down close to Lance's. His breath caressed Lance's ear as he talked. "I like you watching me."

Before Lance could say another word, he felt Justin's lips on his earlobe, gentle and warm and wet. He felt the hardness of Justin's teeth as he bit down lightly. Lance closed his eyes and shuddered in pleasure.

Suddenly, someone banged on the studio door. Lance and Justin jumped up from the floor, surprised. Not meeting Justin's eyes, Lance hurried to unlock the door. Joey stood on the other side, JC and Chris behind him. "You guys giving private lessons now?" Joey joked, barging into the room. "Or can anyone sign up?"

Lance was speechless as he turned around and looked at Justin, who smiled at the others as if nothing had happened. But Lance still felt the touch of Justin's lips on his skin, and thoughtfully he wiped the wetness from his ear.


	3. All I Ever Wanted

It had been a week since their last show, and because their next concert was another week away, their manager had agreed to a little down time, and each of the band members had flown to their respective homes. Now Justin lay on his bed, in the room where he had grown up, his walls still covered in teenybopper posters and school pictures. He stared at the ceiling fan, turning lazily in the tepid air, and wondered what the other band members were doing. Playing a game of ball, working out at a local gym, going to the clubs, taking in a movie or two? He wondered what Lance was doing right now.

He sighed. _Lance._ In the last few months, the two of them had grown so close -- sometimes he would catch Lance watching him. He felt the heat of Lance's gaze on his bare back when he stripped off his shirt; he felt it on his face as he tried to sleep on the bus. Whenever Justin tried talking to Lance, though, about anything, Lance always managed to put some distance between the two of them, when Justin found himself wanting to get closer. The only time Lance didn't pull away was when they were with the others, but Justin couldn't confront him then. He wanted to know what thoughts lay behind Lance's light green eyes; he wanted to drink of his secrets and run his hands through his cropped blonde hair. Sometimes, in the darkness of the night, when he lay in bed alone, tossing and turning, Justin admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe, he wanted to touch Lance's body, to hold him close and feel his skin against his own.

Lying on his own bed, in his own house, the sounds of his mother in the kitchen downstairs drifting up to him, he allowed himself to admit that he wanted to see Lance's eyes again, hear his deep voice, see his slight, hesitant smile. He wondered what Lance was up to right now -- was he out with friends? A girl? Was he thinking of him?

Suddenly the phone rang. Justin let it ring. Once, twice. The answering machine would get it. Downstairs he heard his mother cross the hardwood floor and answer it in mid-ring. He waited. It was probably an old school friend, wanting to catch him while he was home. Justin sighed -- he didn't feel like being sociable today.

"Justin!" his mother called, her voice muffled through his closed door.

Without getting up, he hollered back, "Who is it?"

"One of the boys!" she yelled. "Pick it up, will you?"

 _One of the boys._ That meant it was one of the group. Justin's heartbeat quickened as he lifted the receiver from his bedside table. "Hello?" he asked, and heard his mother hang the other phone up.

Silence filled the air. He heard the crackle of long distance, and he waited. "Hello?" he asked again, ready to hang up.

And then, "Justin?" It was Lance.

"Lance?" Justin asked, incredulous. "I was just thinking about you, man. What's up?"

Justin could hear the grin in Lance's voice. "You were?" he asked. "Thinking about me, I mean?"

"Yeah," Justin said, his voice suddenly husky. He pictured Lance, laying on his bed at home like Justin was, and suddenly he wished to be there with him, beside him, their bodies pressed together so tightly that they appeared to be one. His arms ached to hold him like that.

Suddenly, Lance blurted out, "I miss you. I just called to tell you that." He laughed. "I know, I know. A few more days and we'll see each other again, but I just wanted to let you know I was ... I was thinking about you."

Justin sighed. "Me too," he said. They fell into a comfortable silence. Justin laid there listening to the steady rhythm of Lance's breath, and then he started to sing softly. "You're all I ever wanted."

Lance took up the chorus. "You're all I ever needed, yeah." Justin loved the depth of his voice.

Together they sang on the phone. "So tell me what to do now, 'cause I want you back."

Later, when they hung up the phone, Justin watched the ceiling fan for long moments and wondered how it would feel to kiss Lance, his lips and neck and face, to run his hands over his firm body, to hold him in his arms, and to never let go.


	4. Wakeup Call

Lance sank down in the pool until the water lapped gently just below his nose. Beneath the water, his toes barely touched the tiles on the pool's bottom. Looking around he spotted three of his friends, sitting at the bar, sipping mock cocktails and goofing off. He turned around lazily, treading the cool water, and swam backwards, the sun beating down on the top of his head. He kept swimming slowly until he caught a glimpse of Justin, and then he positioned himself so he could watch his friend from the safety of the pool with no one else knowing.

Justin lay stretched out on a lounge chair close to the deep end of the pool. Lance allowed himself the luxury of studying Justin's body, tan and slim and glistening wetly in the hot afternoon sun. _God, he's sexy,_ Lance thought. He could see Justin's tanned legs, strong and muscular; his broad chest, so smooth and golden; his sinewy arms stretched above his head. Beneath the curly crown of his blonde hair, a pair of black sunglasses obscured his eyes, but he had been lying still for so long that Lance thought he was asleep. As he napped, he ran his tongue over his full lips and shifted slightly. Even from this distance Lance heard the slight creak of the chair beneath Justin's weight. When he moved, his swim trunks pulled tight over the bulge at his crotch, one leghole gaping open slightly to reveal a triangle of darkness. Lance caught his breath, then sneezed as water shot up his nose.

He coughed and stood up in the pool, wiping tears from his eyes and water from his nose. Suddenly something soft hit him in the back of the head, bouncing over him. He looked up to see a bright red beach ball sailing above him, landing with a small splash in the pool. He turned around.

Joey and JC stood near the door leading back into the hotel. Chris stood at the edge of the pool, grinning foolishly. "Yo, Lance!" he called, his voice carrying easily across the pool. "C'mon, man! We gotta get ready for the show. Wake up Justin and get a move on!"

"Be right there," Lance called. Scooping up the beach ball, he waited until the others were inside the hotel before he climbed out of the pool. Beneath his feet the concrete walk was warm and dry. He tossed the ball aside and walked over to Justin, who hadn't moved. _Must really be asleep,_ Lance thought. As he approached he stuck out one hand, still wet, and let the water drip onto Justin's legs. He watched as the droplets ran down the tanned skin and onto the straps of the chair. Moving closer, he dripped the water onto the hem of Justin's shorts, staining them a darker color, and then further up, letting the water pool on the taut fabric stretched tight between his legs.

Above the shorts, Lance let his hand fall until the tips of his fingers brushed Justin's skin. Gently he traced the curve of muscle along Justin's stomach, and he heard his friend's sharp intake of breath. Running his hand further up Justin's chest, he let his fingers linger over the dark nipples, first one, then the other, leaving a wet trail between them. Justin shifted slightly, pressing up until Lance's hand covered his nipple completely, the nub hard against his palm, and then he settled back into the chair and sighed sleepily.

Lance glanced at Justin, but the dark glasses hid his eyes. Was he still asleep? He rubbed the nipple playfully with his thumb, watching the way Justin's lips parted slightly as he moaned with pleasure. Kneeling down beside the chair, he glanced at Justin again, and then leaned over and licked the aroused bud, the skin hard and firm and slightly salty. Placing his mouth fully over the areola, he sucked gently and kissed the skin, tugging the tip with his teeth slightly as he pulled away.

Justin's hand came up behind him and ran through his hair, pushing him closer. His grip was firm and steady, and suddenly Lance wondered if Justin was awake after all. Quickly he pulled back, a look of fear creeping into his eyes. He shook his head, knocking Justin's hand away as a spray of cool water sprinkled from his hair onto his friend's bare chest.

"Hey!" Justin cried, putting his hands up to avoid getting wet, but it was too late. Lance grinned and shook his head harder, flinging the water out of his hair, hoping to hide his embarrassment. He hoped Justin had been asleep. "Stop it!" Justin caught Lance's head in both hands and turned his face towards him.

Lance reached up and removed Justin's sunglasses. Justin stared at him with those large blue eyes of his, searching his face. Lance swallowed once, afraid of what Justin was about to say. "Where are the others?" Justin asked in a low, thick voice.

"Inside," Lance whispered. "We've got to get ready."

Justin ran a finger around the outside of Lance's ear, his touch warm and soft. Gently he tugged on Lance's earlobe as his other hand strayed down Lance's neck, stopping over one of his own nipples. Lance closed his eyes as Justin squeezed gently.

Opening his eyes, he found Justin leaning forward, his face inches from Lance's own. Lance held his breath until Justin smiled a bit sadly, gave his nipple one last squeeze, and then dropped his hands from his face and chest. "Thanks for waking me up," he whispered before standing.

Lance watched him walk away, his shorts pulling tight across his buttocks with each step, and then Justin stopped. Looking back, he asked, "You coming?"

Not trusting himself to answer in a steady voice, Lance hurried to catch up.


	5. Heatwave

They were in Virginia somewhere -- that's all Justin knew. It was the middle of August, the air sticky with humidity. Walking outside was like stepping into a warm sponge; it took his breath away and made his head hurt. They had another five hours before their show tonight, and it was too hot to practice. And to top it all off, the air in their hotel was broken. Justin lay on the sofa and closed his eyes in frustration. He wore just a loose tank-top and a thin pair of boxers, and tried not to let any part of his body touch any other part.

Lance was on the floor on his back, his legs propped up against the end of the sofa, his feet in the air above Justin's own. Chris sprawled in a chair beside him, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Joey and JC had volunteered to get something for lunch; they left over an hour ago and weren't back yet. At this point Justin didn't even think he was hungry anymore. His head ached like a rotten tooth, his eyes watered, his whole body was bathed in a sheath of sweat. He just wanted to be dead.

"It's hot," Chris said for the millionth time. "Why's it so hot here?"

"The air's broken," Lance reminded him. Justin scrunched his eyes closed tighter and tried to block out the sounds of their voices.

But Chris wouldn't shut up. A few minutes later he said it again. "It's hot."

Justin couldn't take it anymore. Flinging a pillow over at Chris, he growled, "We _know_ that. Just drop it already."

He waited, knowing Chris. Sure enough, in a few minutes he said in a soft voice, "Man, it's _hot_."

Sitting up suddenly, Justin pointed at the door to his room. "Out!" he said. Chris looked at him, a hurt expression on his face, but Justin didn't care. It was too hot to care. "Get out! Before I hit you, get out of my room!"

Chris pouted, but he stood up and stretched. As he stepped over Lance, he glared at Justin and muttered, "What's keeping those two?" At the door he said, "I'm going to see what's up with our lunch. I'll be back." Throwing another hurt look at Justin, he slammed the door on his way out.

On the floor Lance shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. Justin gripped his head with both hands and lay back down. He just wished the pounding would stop. He wished the a/c would work. He wished he hadn't yelled at Chris. Hell, he wished a lot of things right now, but none of them seemed likely to come true. He closed his eyes against the light and the pain and took a few deep breaths.

He heard Lance get up from the floor and open the small refrigerator, the only cool place in the room. Earlier they had taken turns standing in front of the small appliance, but it hadn't generated enough cool air to cool them off and they had given up. Instead they had stripped to their T-shirts and boxers and just lay around, Chris remarking on the heat, until Justin couldn't stand it anymore and sent him away. Already he was feeling bad for yelling at his friend -- when he came back he'd have to apologize.

He heard Lance digging through the ice rack, the sound of ice cubes clinking together almost musical. A waft of coolness curled around his feet, and then the refrigerator door closed softly and the heat rushed in to dissipate the draft. He sighed and wondered if Lance would berate him for the way he had treated Chris.

His eyes were still closed, but he heard Lance move back across the room and sensed his friend standing over him. Then he felt the pressure of Lance's hip against his as he sat down on the sofa, and he felt his friend's steady gaze on his face. He kept his mouth set, his eyes closed, his brow slightly furrowed, and wondered what Lance was doing so close to him. His heartbeat quickened, and despite the heat, his skin suddenly hungered for Lance's touch. _Maybe it's a good thing Chris left,_ he thought, finding himself suddenly aroused at the thought of them here, together, alone.

And then something wet and cold and hard touched his forehead, and Justin gasped. _An ice cube,_ he thought as a drop of water coursed its way down his temple and into his curly hair. Lance must have taken an ice cube from the refrigerator, and now held it against Justin's forehead. As he kept his eyes closed, Lance began to run the ice cube around his temples, first one side, then the other, until his forehead was cool and wet.

Then the ice cube found its way down the side of his face, tracing his cheekbone, around his chin, up the other side. Back on his forehead, the ice cube rested briefly before sliding down the slope of his nose, and when it rested at the tip, Justin dared to stick his tongue out, trying to touch it.

He tasted Lance's palm, salty and warm and soft. Quickly his tongue darted back into his mouth, and Lance pressed the ice cube against his lips, rubbing back and forth until they were glistening and damp. He stuck his tongue out again and licked the side of Lance's hand with quick motions, like a cat bathing itself. He liked the taste of Lance's skin.

But then the hand and the ice cube were gone, trailing down his neck and into the hollow of his neck, where the cool water pooled slightly before trickling down either side to the sofa below. He sucked in his breath as the coldness slipped over his tank-top and traced first one nipple, teasing it into hardness, and then the other. As Lance outlined each nipple, his fingertips brushed against the tender bud, and Justin wished he was wearing something more than boxer shorts. He knew his pleasure must be showing by now; he had never felt so aroused by a simple touch in his life. How large was that ice cube? It should've melted away completely by now.

And then it moved lower, crossing the plains of his stomach to slide along the waistband of his boxers, and he groaned slightly when Lance's wrist brushed against the hard bulge in his shorts. He bit his lips and tried to control himself, but when the ice cube danced over his erection, he couldn't stop from gasping with pleasure. Icy water leaked into his boxers, and he imagined he could hear it sizzle on his heated flesh. Involuntarily, he reached out, and gripped Lance's knee with one hand. As the ice cube teased his cock through the thin fabric, he rubbed Lance's inner thigh tenderly, flicking the edge of his own boxers playfully, afraid to go any farther.

Suddenly the ice cube found its way back onto his stomach and slid up his chest, up his neck, around his chin, and back to his mouth. His lips parted greedily as he tasted the wetness, hard and now so small. Lance's fingers held the ice cube to his lips, allowing him to suck at it before pulling it back. Teasing him. Forcing him to lean upward with his mouth, follow the ice with his tongue, wrap his lips around Lance's fingers and pull them back to him. When the ice was gone, Lance kept his forefinger at Justin's lips, and the boy sucked at it hungrily, running his tongue around its tip, nibbling at it softly. His crotch throbbed with the ache of his erection, and his hand found its way under Lance's shorts. His fingers touched hard skin, kinky hair. Lance pulled his finger from Justin's mouth and offered his thumb, leaving a hot, wet trail along his cheek as his finger came to rest above his jaw. Justin bit down lightly on his thumb as he twined his fingers in the damp hair beneath Lance's shorts. He smiled as Lance caught his breath sharply.

Suddenly the door to the room banged open. Justin sat up quickly, his eyes flying open, his headache pounding incessantly at his temples, Lance's hand falling away from his face to cover his own hand, still in Lance's shorts. Justin shifted his legs to hide his erection as the others barged into the room, bags of Chinese food in Joey's hands. Chris and JC carried tall cool drinks. Almost guiltily he pulled his hand out of Lance's shorts, letting his fingers trail along his thigh as Lance turned to look at the others. "Finally," Lance said, his voice a little shaky. "Food."

Justin ran a hand through his hair and silently cursed their timing. But he had to admit -- for a few moments there he had forgotten about the weather, though another kind of heat had fueled his thoughts.


	6. The Haircut

Lance squinted in the mirror of Justin's hotel room. "I need a haircut," he complained, running a hand through his blonde hair. It was starting to get a bit long and looked a tad shaggy.

Justin stepped up close behind him, hands on his hips. Cocking his head to one side, he said, "I'll cut it for you."

Lance laughed. "What do you know about cutting hair?" he asked.

A wicked gleam crept into Justin's eyes. "Can't be that hard," he admitted. "Chris cuts his own hair all the time."

Lance met his friend's gaze in the mirror and grimaced. "That's not saying much. Maybe I should just wait --" But Justin was already heading for a pair of scissors from the bathroom, and when he returned he held them in one hand like Edward Scissorhands. He opened and closed them -- snip, snip -- and grinned. Lance shook his head. "Justin, really. You don't have to do this --"

A pout pulled at the corners of Justin's mouth. "Aw, what could possibly go wrong?"

"You could cut too much," Lance said. He kept his gaze on the scissors to avoid looking at Justin's face -- those full lips curved into a perfect pout, those mischievous eyes pleading with him. If he looked at that face for too long, he would do anything Justin wished. Suddenly the thought of Justin's hands roaming through his hair, his head pressed against Justin's chest, Justin's arms on either side of his head -- Lance swallowed hard against the image. Instead he added, "You could cut it all uneven. Why don't we just wait?"

But Justin had an answer ready for him. Crossing the room, he stood in front of Lance and studied him. He was so close that Lance leaned back on the dresser to avoid touching him. "If it's too short, it'll grow back," Justin cajoled. "If it's crooked, I'll fix it." Reaching out, he pulled at one strand of Lance's hair, his fingers brushing against Lance's neck. "Trust me," he whispered.

Lance met his gaze with wide eyes and knew he would give in. Not trusting himself to answer, he nodded, and when Justin smiled, Lance wondered how he had ever hoped to say no.

"Take off your shirt," Justin commanded.

Lance toyed with the hem of the gold jersey he wore. "My --" he began, confused. He had nothing on under it.

Justin rolled his eyes and sighed. "So it won't get hair all over it," he said in mock exasperation. He tugged at the hem of the jersey playfully. "C'mon," he pleaded, ducking his head slightly and looking up at Lance with sad eyes.

Sighing, Lance pulled the jersey up over his head quickly, before he lost his nerve. When he was blinded by the fabric, he felt Justin's hand stray to the waistband of his shorts, caressing the muscles of his stomach. He pulled the jersey off completely and tossed it aside, boldly looking at Justin, but his friend's gaze was directed at his bare chest. For a moment his hand lingered on Lance's abdomen, the warm touch of skin on skin making Lance's stomach flutter with excitement.

And then Justin's hand fell away, and Lance released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Turning away, Justin pointed to a spot on the floor in front of the bed. "Have a seat," he said, his voice a little unsteady. Lance obeyed, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Justin stepped around behind him and sat down on the bed, one knee on either side of Lance. Lance leaned back and looked up at him, his head resting against the inside of Justin's thigh where the hem of his shorts ended. Placing both hands on the top of Lance's head, Justin gently pushed him down until he was looking at the floor. Stretching his legs out, Lance shifted into a more comfortable position. "Stay still," Justin admonished, touching Lance's shoulders slightly to steady him. His hands were warm and strong and comforting. Lance closed his eyes, savoring the touch.

Justin began by running his hands through Lance's hair. His scalp tingled at the sensation. The only sound in the room was the snip of the scissors, loud in his ears, and their easy breathing. When Justin's hands settled for too long in one place, Lance would lean into his touch. But Lance didn't have a lot of hair, and before long it was over. Justin set the scissors aside and brushed through Lance's hair with his fingers, shaking away the loose clippings. Lance sighed as Justin's fingers delved deeper, massaging his scalp.

Then Justin's hands slid down, rubbing his neck and shoulders, kneading tired flesh. Beneath the insistent hands Lance felt his skin flush. As Justin continued his massage, Lance reached back and wrapped his arms around Justin's bare legs. He pulled gently and Justin slid off of the bed, his legs curling around Lance's own as he sat on the floor behind him. The bulge of Justin's erection pressed firmly against Lance's buttocks, and Lance groaned slightly, more aroused than ever. He leaned back against Justin, his head on his friend's shoulder, as Justin's hands slid lower down his back and under his arms, tracing soft patterns along Lance's chest and stomach. He felt Justin kiss his neck, soft damp lips igniting his skin, setting his blood aflame.

Gently Justin covered Lance's nipples with his hands, rubbing the tender buds with his palms, squeezing them playfully between his fingers. His tongue licked along Lance's collarbone, leaving a wet trail that cooled instantly. Lance shivered in delight, and Justin pinched his nipples erect while nibbling on his neck. As Lance moaned, he slid down until he leaned back fully against Justin's chest, his friend's hard cock pressing against his lower back. Justin groaned into Lance's neck and began to suck gently on his skin just above the collarbone.

His hands released Lance's nipples, slightly tender from the attention, and drifted down to Lance's stomach. Spreading out across his shorts, Justin pulled the fabric tight as he traced his way down to twine in the fine downy hair on Lance's upper thighs. Lance thrust up slightly, his own erection straining against the taut fabric.

Slowly Justin stroked Lance's thighs, and Lance opened his legs wider, pressing them against Justin's own. As Justin bit Lance's neck tenderly, his hands moved across Lance's shorts until they cupped his crotch. Lance gasped and tried to pull back, but Justin pulled him closer, his fingers rubbing the swollen hardness through the thin fabric, his own erection pressing against Lance's back. Lance moaned loudly and thrust against Justin's hands as they squeezed him gently. He ran his hands along Justin's legs and thrust again, biting his lower lip to keep from crying out in pleasure.

A loud knock startled them. Justin's hands froze over Lance's crotch and Lance's eyes flew open. He gulped once and pushed away from Justin, reaching for his jersey lying discarded on the bed. This time Justin let him go, and they both stood up as the knock came again. "Justin?" someone called through the door, the voice muffled and indistinct.

Justin pulled his shirt down to cover his bulging crotch and shifted in his shorts awkwardly. He headed for the door, but turned back with his hand on the knob to watch as Lance tugged his shirt on over his head and nonchalantly studied his new haircut in the mirror. Justin unlocked the door and opened it.

Chris stood outside, about to knock again. "Yo, dudes," he called, barging into the room. "We're heading into town to check out the local scene. You've been complaining about a haircut lately --" he turned to Lance, standing in front of the mirror -- "You guys wanna go?" He squinted as Lance ran his hand through his newly cropped hair. "You already got it cut?"

Justin grinned. "What do you think?" he asked.

Chris cocked an eyebrow. "You cut it?"

Lance nodded. "I like it," he said, a slight waver in his voice. "Maybe I'll have him cut it all the time."

Justin ducked his head and ran a hand nervously through his curly hair, but not before Lance saw a thin blush creep into Justin's cheeks. Already he found himself looking forward to his next haircut.


	7. Summer Storm

The small convenience store was only a few blocks from Lance's home, and even though the sky was overcast and a severe thunderstorm warning was in effect for the next two hours, Justin thought he could make it and back before the clouds broke. He was bored; JC was watching Joey and Chris annihilate each other in the latest _Mortal Kombat_ video game, and Lance fooled around with a handheld Gameboy. Suddenly Justin had this craving for chocolate. "Where's that store again?" he asked.

Lance shrugged. "Just around the corner," he replied. "Why -- you going?"

Standing up, Justin stretched languidly, his arms reaching for the ceiling. The hem of his T-shirt pulled free from the waistband of his jeans, and he saw Lance's gaze linger on the exposed flesh of his stomach before he tugged the shirt down again. "I want some candy," Justin said. Lance raised his eyes to meet Justin's before turning back to his game.

"There's a storm coming," JC reminded him.

Justin shrugged. "I'll be back before it hits."

Suddenly Joey rooted through the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a five dollar bill. Handing it to Justin, he asked, "Get me a box of Twinkies, will you?"

Taking the money, Justin asked, "Anyone else?"

"Some bubblegum," Chris suggested. JC just shook his head.

Justin turned to Lance. "Is the store hard to find?"

Lance shook his head. "Want me to go with you?"

Trying to hide the smile that wanted to creep across his face, Justin simply shrugged. "If you want." He hoped Lance wanted to be alone with him.

Lance clicked off the Gameboy and stood up. "We'll be back," he said, and then led the way out of the room, Justin at his heels.

They didn't talk on the way to the store. The sky above pressed down on them, the bruised clouds swollen and angry. Justin walked as close to Lance as he dared, hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets. It wasn't often he managed to get Lance alone, though when he did they never seemed to have much to say. He wondered how Lance felt about him -­he thought his own feelings were so obvious, and yet he couldn't bring himself to talk to Lance about them. What would he say? How would he explain the sleepless nights, the gentle ache he felt in his arms, his heart, his groin? As they walked to the store, each lost in their own thoughts, Justin managed to rub his arm against Lance's every few steps, the simple touch sending electric shivers down his spine.

The store was everything Justin expected it to be -- nothing more than four aisles of thinly stocked shelves and a cold case full of milk. There were no Twinkies, but Justin found a generic brand that Joey would eat just the same. Lance found some gum and a few candy bars, and they were ready to leave. As they approached the register, though, Lance elbowed him. "Look how dark it got," he said in a low voice.

Justin looked out the window and whistled. In the time they spent shopping, the sky had grown black. The clouds roiled like spilt ink, purple and indigo and a black so dark it hurt to look at it directly. Suddenly thunder rumbled, shaking the floor like an earthquake, and a bolt of lightning split the sky. And then the clouds opened up, and the wind flung torrential sheets of rain against the windows with such force that the glass trembled. "This sucks," Justin said.

Lance laughed as the cashier rang them up. "We can make a run for it," he suggested.

"You're outta your mind," Justin said. "It's pouring out there, man! We'll be soaked."

A bright shine came to Lance's eyes, and he grinned. "You afraid?" he asked, opening the door.

Outside the rain beat down so hard that it bounced off the concrete, forming a thin mist. Justin imagined that rain pelting his body, the water cold and refreshing after the heat of the day. _What the hell,_ he thought, and without another word, he jumped out of the store and into the downpour, a loud _whoop!_ rising from his lungs. Lance was right behind him.

The instant they were outside, they were soaked. The rain ran down Justin's face and plastered his hair to his scalp. His clothes clung to his body like a second skin, and when Lance ran past him on the sidewalk, he saw Lance's jeans hugging his legs and buttocks, the white T-shirt now translucent, molded to Lance's shoulder blades, outlining his biceps. Justin caught his breath when Lance turned around, laughing at the storm, and he saw dark, erect nipples through the thin shirt.

And then Lance stopped, waiting for Justin to catch up. The house was just ahead. Justin ran past Lance and up the driveway; Lance followed close behind. They were laughing as they ran into the open garage, and then they stood breathless just inside the doorway, watching the rain hit the concrete, the spray blowing in at them on the wind.

Out of the downpour, Justin shivered. The air was suddenly cool and in his wet clothes, he felt cold. Lance rubbed a hand along Justin's back, trying to warm him, the feel of his hand through the wet fabric igniting Justin. He leaned back into Lance's touch and closed his eyes as Lance used both hands to rub heat into his shoulders.

Reaching back, Justin ran his hands along Lance's thighs, the denim heavy and clammy. He gripped the back of Lance's legs and pulled him forward slightly. Taking the hint, Lance stepped forward, his feet on either side of Justin's, their wet sneakers touching. Their thick jeans pressed close together, but beneath all that material Justin felt a stiffness that felt hot and damp press against his buttocks. He pushed his butt back against Lance and heard his friend's moan as he rubbed against Lance's growing erection. He ran his hands further back, until they cupped Lance's butt, and when he pushed again, he pulled Lance towards him as well, pressing against the bulge at his crotch.

Lance's hands worked their way down Justin's arms, kneading the cold flesh to warmth. Lance's chest pressed tight against Justin's back, and he could feel the hard nubs of Lance's nipples on his shoulder blades. A dull ache throbbed at Justin's groin, and he felt his own erection straining the cold, damp fabric of his jeans. When the wind blew, it tickled his erect nipples, and he moaned as Lance pressed his cock against him again.

Suddenly his clothes were too cold, too confining. He wanted to strip them off and lay with Lance on the lush grass of the yard, his erection pressing against Lance's own, his hands roaming Lance's body freely, the rain pouring down around them, wet and hot and hard. He wanted to taste Lance, his skin, his lips, his tongue. He wanted to feel those strong hands around him, holding him close. He leaned back and let his head rest on Lance's shoulder. Lance's ragged breaths fanned his ear, turning him on more. He turned his head towards Lance and opened his eyes. Lance's face was mere inches away, his eyes hooded with desire, his lips parted slightly. When Lance licked his lips and looked at him, Justin leaned forward slightly, wanting to taste that tongue, those lips.

Behind them, a garbage can toppled to the ground. Justin released Lance's legs and spun away, breathless, his heart beating wildly against his chest. Lance staggered back and turned, cursing softly as a shaggy tomcat ran into the shadows of the garage. Justin laughed, a little shaky, and wondered if they could get back to where they had been. _So close,_ he thought to himself, running a hand over the erection in his jeans. He looked at Lance's crotch hungrily before raising his gaze to meet his friend's. Lance's eyes were wide and dark, full of promise. _Sweet Jesus, oh so close._

Clearing his throat, Lance reached for the plastic bags from the store. They sat on the concrete floor of the garage, dropped and forgotten. "We better tell the others we're back," he said, a tinge of regret in his voice.

Justin nodded, watching as Lance walked up the stairs leading to the house. Outside the rain began to ease up, and Justin plucked at his wet garments as he followed behind Lance. "I am so wet. Gotta dry off," he muttered.

Lance laughed softly. "That'll take a while," he replied. Justin thought of his aching erection and silently agreed.


	8. Truth or Dare

The game was Joey's idea. It was sort of a cross between "Spin the Bottle" and "Truth or Dare." They sat in a circle on the floor of JC's hotel room around an empty plastic Pepsi bottle. Joey went first since it was his game. Spinning the bottle, he waited until it came to a complete stop in front of one of his friends. Then he asked if they wanted to be asked a question they had to answer truthfully -- "Truth" -- or if they were up to performing a wild or crazy stunt -- "Dare." Once they had answered the question or completed the dare, it was their turn to spin the bottle.

It started out innocently enough. The questions focused mostly on girls: who had done what and how far they had gone. The dares were much more fun, and amid laughter and catcalls they took turns making prank calls to room service for outrageous meals, racing down the hallway in their underwear, and pestering their manager and the crew members with silly games. But as the night wore on their talk quieted, and the dares became few and far between, the questions more and more intimate. Joey spun the bottle again; it turned in a lazy circle and stopped in front of Justin. "Truth or dare?" he asked.

Justin shrugged. "Truth."

Joey took a minute to think about his question. They had almost exhausted all possible ones, until there seemed to be nothing left to ask that they didn't already know about each other. Then a grin tugged at the corner of Joey's mouth, and he asked, "Have you ever kissed a guy?"

Chris and JC looked over at Justin, who blushed slightly, suddenly the center of attention. Joey laughed, but Lance sat hugging his knees to his chest and looked at the bottle, wondering what Justin would say. For a moment everyone was silent, waiting. Then Justin said, "No."

The others laughed, almost relieved, but Lance closed his eyes tightly, trying to block them out. _Never kissed a guy?_ he thought bitterly. While he admitted they had never kissed on the mouth, he had felt Justin's lips on his neck before. Didn't that count? Or had Justin already forgotten about that? Did their brief encounters, so full of heat and emotion, mean nothing to him? Lance frowned as Justin spun the bottle.

It stopped in front of him. Lance bit his lip in frustration as Justin asked, "Truth or dare?"

Lance met Justin's gaze, wanting to see something behind those blue eyes, but he couldn't read his friend's expression. He sighed. "This is stupid," he said.

"Aw, c'mon, Lance," Chris said.

"Just pick one," JC added.

 _Fine._ "Truth," he said, boldly looking at Justin across the bottle. He thought he knew what Justin would ask, and his answer would be yes. He _had_ kissed Justin before -- the salty taste of Justin's hard nipple still lingered in his mouth. He felt the thick bud on his tongue, between his teeth. He would say yes.

But maybe Justin saw the determination in Lance's steady gaze because he glanced around the room at the others and said, "Name one thing you hate about me."

Startled, Lance asked, "What kind of a question is that?"

Joey laughed. "A good one," he admitted. "Go on -- answer it."

"I can't answer that," Lance complained. In truth, he was stalling for time -- he couldn't think of one thing he hated about Justin, not one thing.

But Justin persisted. "I won't get mad," he said, grinning. "It's only a game."

"I wouldn't answer it, either," JC said, coming to Lance's defense. "You say it's just a game but in the back of your mind, you'll always be thinking about it."

Chris chimed in. "I agree. Don't answer it, Lance." Looking at Justin, he said, "Majority rules. Pick a new question or let Lance spin."

Justin chewed on his lower lip as he studied Lance. Then he muttered, "You spin."

Was Justin mad at him? Lance reached down and spun the bottle a little too hard. It wobbled before stopping in front of Chris, who looked at him expectantly. "Truth or dare?" Lance sighed.

"Dare," Chris said, hoping to alleviate the dour mood that had settled over the group.

Lance sighed again. "I don't feel like playing this anymore."

"You just can't think up a good enough dare," Chris taunted.

The others were waiting. Lance just wanted the night to be over. "Stick your head in the toilet and flush it."

Joey laughed. Justin smiled as Chris jumped up and disappeared into the bathroom. They heard the toilet flush and Chris whooped loudly, and when he came back out his wet hair dripped into his face. Flinging it back out of his eyes, he sat down. "Done," he said, reaching for the bottle.

JC put out a hand to stop him. "Wait a minute," he said. "How do we know you really stuck your head in the toilet?"

"You heard it flush, didn't you?"

JC shrugged. "You could've flushed it and then stuck your head in the sink."

Chris rolled his eyes and spun the bottle. It stopped in front of Justin.

"Me again," he said, grinning.

"Truth or dare?" Chris asked.

"Dare," he said.

A sly look crossed Chris's face. "You've never kissed a guy," he said. Lance felt his stomach churn, his throat tighten, as Chris paused for effect. "Kiss JC."

"What?" Justin cried, and Joey hooted with laughter as JC grumbled, "Why me?"

Suddenly Lance couldn't take it anymore. How could they joke and laugh about this when it hurt so much inside? The last thing he wanted was the image of Justin's lips pressed against JC's engraved into his mind. Jumping up, he said, "This sucks. I'm leaving."

"Lance, wait!" Justin called, but he ignored him, heading for the door.

"What's up with him?" JC asked.

"I'll go see," Justin said as Lance left the room. He hoped Justin wouldn't follow him, but he knew his friend, and sure enough, as Lance was halfway back to his own room, he heard the door open behind him. "Lance, wait."

He ducked into the lounge, dark this late at night. A large window on the far side of the lounge ran from floor to ceiling, providing a panoramic view of the city at night. Where were they? he wondered. New York? Chicago? He didn't know anymore, and right now he didn't care. The lights of the city blurred as he blinked back tears he refused to cry.

He heard Justin enter the lounge and stop behind him. "Lance --" he began, but Lance cut him off.

"Leave me alone," he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Justin walked closer. "Lance," he began again, his voice soft. He was so close. "What's wrong, man?"

Bitterly, Lance replied, "You don't know?"

Justin sighed heavily. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He hurried on. "But what could I say? I didn't want them to know -- I can't tell them."

"Oh, but you can kiss JC?" Lance asked, sarcastic.

"It wouldn't mean anything," Justin said. "Just a peck on the lips. It's only a game." Tentatively he touched Lance's shoulders, his hands strong, comforting, warm through his shirt.

Lance tried to shrug away but Justin began rubbing his upper arms gently, his touch insistent, demanding. Stepping closer, he leaned his chin on Lance's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist, right beneath Lance's own arms. He hugged him tight, and Lance closed his eyes, trying to ignore the feel of Justin holding him so close. Suddenly he felt warm and safe and loved, and he never wanted Justin to let go.

But he couldn't push aside the rest of his feelings, the hurt, the anger, the stupid game. "Is this just a game?" he asked softly. He felt Justin turn his face, his breath fanning Lance's neck. He looked at the window and saw their reflection, him standing with crossed arms, Justin right behind. He saw Justin looking back. Those curls, those eyes ... "Let me know if this is just a game to you, because I don't want to play anymore if it is."

Justin's arms squeezed him, and then Justin released his grip and turned him around to face him. "No," he said, his brow furrowed. Frowning, he continued, "No, this -- this isn't a game for me. I'm not playing with you, man. I live for these moments, just you and me. I dream about them, relive them over and over again, each glance, each touch, each kiss --"

Lance looked away. Taking his chin in his hand, Justin turned his face back towards his. His eyes were filled with sadness and angst. "I didn't want to kiss JC," he admitted. "I wanted to kiss you. And not just a peck, either, but something more, something real. I couldn't do that in front of them." He studied Lance's face, and Lance knew his eyes were red and watery -- he was on the verge of tears. Justin's thumb and forefinger gripped his chin tightly so he couldn't look away, but he was lost in Justin's blue gaze, and he didn't want to move. Justin leaned closer, his face inches from Lance's. "Something to show you exactly how I feel," he whispered.

Lance swallowed. Suddenly his throat was dry. "And how is that?" he asked quietly.

Justin pulled him closer, releasing his hold on his chin. One hand slipped around Lance's waist to press against his back; the other traced his cheek, caressed his ear, and roamed through his hair before coming to rest on the back of his head. Lance closed his eyes and waited.

The first touch was tentative, unsure. Justin kissed Lance tenderly, his lips slightly apart. His spicy cologne filled Lance's senses; his soft lips tasted sweet, exotic. He leaned forward as Justin kissed him again, more insistently this time, and he felt Justin's tongue lick over his lips, eager to explore. Lance opened his mouth slightly and Justin's tongue plunged inside -- Lance's own tongue reached out, licking the other experimentally. Justin pulled Lance closer, his hands holding Lance tight, and Lance didn't have enough room to unfold his own arms from his chest. They were all that separated them.

Justin's tongue roamed his mouth, tasting his tongue, his teeth, his cheeks. Lance felt himself harden as Justin pulled away slightly before delving in again. When he broke free, trailing kisses along Lance's chin and cheeks, he pushed his hips against Lance until their cocks bumped against each other, hard and hot, confined in their pants. Lance moaned and Justin found his mouth again, his tongue expertly finding its way around, claiming him. As Justin rubbed his erection against Lance's, Lance managed to pull back just enough to get his arms loose, and he ran his hands up Justin's chest, over his shoulders, locking them together behind his head and pulling him close.

Another kiss, and then Justin licked Lance's lips and looked at him. This close Lance could count each one of Justin's eyelashes. Justin's hand rubbed his hair and back, and the feel of his stiff cock against Lance's own was almost too much to bear. His erection ached at the way Justin looked at him, hungry with lust. "That's the way I would've kissed you," Justin said, his voice husky.

Lance cleared his throat. "Might've raised a few eyebrows," he admitted.

Justin smiled. "If nothing else," he replied with a gentle thrust against Lance's groin. Lance groaned in pleasure.

Out in the hallway, a door opened. Lance dropped his arms from Justin's neck and stepped back. Justin kept his hand on Lance's back, rubbing gently in a small circular pattern. He studied Lance a moment longer before asking, "Are we cool?"

Despite the pain he felt earlier, that kiss had dispersed any doubts in Lance's mind. He nodded. "We're cool," he said as JC peeked his head into the lounge.

"You guys okay?" he called.

Justin draped his arm around Lance's shoulder. "Fine," he said. "It's just been a long day."

JC laughed. "Well, Chris got out the Ouija board. You guys up for a little spooky fun?" He wiggled his fingers like children do when they try to scare someone.

Lance smiled. "That thing never works," he said.

"Don't tell Chris that," JC said. "You coming?"

Justin squeezed Lance's shoulder. "Sure." As they left the lounge, Justin said, "I'm sorry I didn't kiss you, JC, but you're not really my type."

All three of them laughed. Suddenly, Lance felt better than he had all night long.


	9. Goodnight Kiss

Justin closed the front door quietly behind him. The house was dark -­it was well past midnight, and the group had to be up early for a video shoot the next morning, so the others were probably already asleep. Justin blinked sleepily, stifling a yawn. It had been a long night -- right now all he wanted was to curl up under the covers of his soft bed and close his eyes.

As he headed for the stairs, he heard the low sounds of the television in the den. Curious, he walked past the staircase to see who was up at this hour. He saw light flicker across the wall as he entered the den, and there was Lance, sitting on the couch, hugging a pillow as he watched TV. "Hey," Justin called from the doorway.

Lance looked up. "Hey," he replied. He took in Justin's pressed jeans, shined shoes, crisp shirt. The blazer he had worn this evening was slung over one shoulder, and he leaned against the door jamb, one hand in his pocket. From here Justin couldn't read the expression in Lance's eyes -­the only light in the room came from the television screen. "How was your date?" Lance asked.

Justin shrugged. It hadn't been his idea -- his manager had devised the contest. One lucky winner would get a night on the town with her favorite member of the band. The teenybopper magazine was flooded with entries, and the girl who won was barely sixteen years old. She chose Justin, of course -- he seemed the most popular with the girls -­and all night long he feared touching or talking to her because she seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilating. After a show and dinner with a bevy of photographers and fans crowding around them, Justin was exhausted and more than happy to see the evening end. The limo had dropped her off at her hotel -- he didn't even remember her name, just her eyes, shiny as if with shock, and her white, white teeth, which flashed continuously as she smiled nonstop. "I'm just glad it's over," was all he said.

Patting the seat next to him on the couch, Lance asked, "Wanna sit down?"

Despite his weariness, Justin suddenly felt wide awake. "The others asleep?" he asked, coming closer.

Lance nodded and turned back to the TV. A tinge of excitement coursed through Justin's body as he sat down on the couch. His hip rested easily against Lance's, and he crossed one leg over his knee as he slipped an arm behind Lance. He let his hand rest against Lance's shoulder and glanced at the TV. "What'cha watching?"

" _Casablanca_ ," Lance said. "Ever see it?"

Justin nodded. "Once," he said softly, setting his head against Lance's other shoulder. Lance shifted slightly into a more comfortable position, and Justin reached for his hand holding the pillow in his lap. They watched the movie in silence for a few moments, Justin stroking Lance's fingers, until Lance caught his hand in his own and intertwined their fingers together. On the TV Humphrey Bogart looked down at Ingrid Bergman with smoldering eyes and told her he had a job to do too.

Lance tossed the pillow aside and looked down at their hands, now sitting in his lap. "So was she nice?" he asked.

Justin sighed. "I guess," he said, nuzzling closer to Lance. He breathed deeply Lance's musky scent, the warm smell igniting his senses. He brought his hand up and played in Lance's hair. "I didn't really talk to her much. We saw _Cats_ and ate at Rialto's."

"Posh," Lance commented. He leaned back against Justin's hand. "What did she eat?"

"Not much. She was too nervous."

A smile crossed Lance's face. "Meeting the famous Justin Timberlake," he said, laughing softly. "I'd be nervous too."

Kissing Lance's neck, Justin whispered, "You don't have to be."

Suddenly the TV clicked off. For a second they sat there in silence, wondering what had happened. And then they heard the sound of sirens far off, wails in the night. The house around them was silent -- even the almost imperceptible sounds of the central air conditioning unit were gone. "What happened?" Lance whispered.

Justin licked Lance's neck, right below his ear. "An accident, probably," he said. He nipped at Lance's earlobe gently, tugging it lightly with his teeth. "Someone knocked out a transformer somewhere." He leaned against Lance, one hand pressing Lance's head towards him, the other releasing Lance's hand and finding its way around Lance's lap. The sound of his zipper opening was loud in the darkness. "The power could be out all night," Justin whispered as his fingers brushed across the thin fabric of Lance's underwear. The soft skin hardened almost instantly beneath the touch, and Lance drew his breath in sharply. "So how was your evening?"

Lance groaned as Justin began to stroke him through his briefs, his fingers flattening the fabric around his stiffening member. "It just got better," Lance sighed, leaning his head back. Justin's other hand brushed the hair from Lance's temples, and Justin pushed himself up slightly to lean over Lance's upturned face. When he moved, he gripped Lance's erection and squeezed gently. Lance opened his mouth in delight and Justin's lips found his, his tongue pressing insistently against Lance's own. He squeezed Lance again as Lance's hand reached for Justin's pants. The sound of his zipper was lost as they moaned softly into each other's mouths. Lance found Justin already hard, his erection slipping free from the confines of his jeans through the opened zipper, straining against the fabric of his boxers. When Lance brushed against the tip of his penis, Justin bit Lance's lower lip in pleasure.

As Lance wrapped his hand around Justin's erection, the fabric the only thing between their skin, they heard a slight creak upstairs. Justin pulled back, trailing his tongue down Lance's chin, and Lance tugged once on Justin's swollen cock. Justin groaned against Lance's neck and squeezed Lance's erection gently. Then they heard footsteps in the hall above, and the squeak of the first stair as someone stepped on it, and Lance released his hold on Justin's cock and pressed it back inside his jeans, tugging the zipper up gently over the bulge. Justin groaned again. "We should've gone upstairs," he muttered against Lance's neck, before zipping Lance's pants back up.

Lance nodded in agreement, not trusting his voice enough to talk. As Justin settled back on the couch beside him, he ran a hand through Lance's hair to straighten it. He kissed Lance tenderly, brushing his lips with his tongue, and then stretched his arms over his head, hoping to will away his erection. He was glad for the darkness -- whoever was awake wouldn't be able to walk in on the both of them, sitting here with hard-ons for each other. He cursed his stupidity -- as soon as he saw Lance was awake, he should've invited him to his room. Behind closed doors, with their friends asleep, maybe they could finally get somewhere instead of leaving them both aching and unfulfilled.

Joey peeked his head into the den. "What's up with the lights?" he asked sleepily.

Lance cleared his throat. "Power's out," he said.

Shuffling into the den, Joey sat down on the cassock near the couch and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "How was your date?" he asked.

Justin shrugged. "Okay."

Joey grinned. "Did you get a goodnight kiss?"

Justin put his hand on Lance's thigh and pushed himself up, his fingers brushing lightly against Lance's still hard erection. Lance closed his eyes and bit his lips to keep his arousal hidden. With a slight squeeze, Justin took his hand away and stood up. "Yeah," he said, heading for the stairs. "A kiss to keep me warm all night. You guys get some sleep -- I'll see you in the morning."


	10. À La Mode

Lance lay on the slightly damp grass, his legs and arms stretched out. The sun beat down on him, drying the sweat from his chest and brow. He wore only his dirty sneakers and a pair of shorts, his tank top abandoned when he started to sweat. He had just finished mowing the lawn, and even though his body ached, he felt a strange sense of peace -- this was the first time he had been home in a while and he liked everything about keeping a house. The other guys were visiting for the few days they had off from the tour, and even though they asked to help out, he wouldn't let them. This was his backyard -- _his_ \-- where he could lie here and feel the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze. The smell of freshly cut grass hung in the air like a heady perfume and the rustling of leaves high above him was soothing. He closed his eyes, letting the summer sounds lull him into a light doze.

He heard the screen door slide open and close. Someone hurried down the few steps of the porch, their sneakers loud on the treated wood, and then the footsteps swished through the grass, coming closer to where Lance was. Lance opened one eye and looked up as a shadow fell over him.

Justin stood above him in rumpled jeans and an old T-shirt, but somehow he still managed to look perfect. He looked at Lance and smiled. In one hand he held a cup and spoon. "Thought you might like some ice cream," he said, walking around to Lance's other side, "after all that hard work."

Lance pulled his arms in, lacing his hands behind his head. Justin sat down next to him and then stretched out on his stomach, his body angled away from Lance's. He lay propped up on his elbows close to Lance's chest, one hand holding the cup above Lance as the other delved the plastic spoon into the ice cream. Lance could feel the coolness above him from the ice cream through the cup. Justin watched the spoon as he stirred the ice cream, and Lance studied his long eyelashes, his curly hair, the sparkling earring in his earlobe. He watched the strong hands, the way his rings fit his fingers snugly, the way his thumbnail flashed in the sun when he moved, and suddenly Lance was hungry for something more than ice cream.

Then Justin glanced at him and smiled. "You want some?" he asked.

Lance nodded slightly. "You only have one spoon," he said as Justin scooped out a small mouthful of white ice cream.

"That's all we need," Justin replied. He held the spoon out to Lance, who started to put his hand up to reach for it, but Justin pulled back. "No hands," he said. Lance glanced at him and saw a sparkle in his friend's eyes. Setting his hand under his head, he settled back on the ground and smiled. As he opened his mouth for the spoon, he felt a rush of heat enflame his groin.

Justin dipped the spoon down towards Lance's face. Eagerly Lance leaned forward slightly, his tongue licking out for the ice cream, but Justin pulled it back again. "Be patient," he admonished. As Lance watched, Justin stuck the spoon into his own mouth, pulling it slowly out between his full lips. "If you're not going to do it my way, then I won't give you any."

Lance pouted, but his crotch began to ache sweetly. "I'm sorry," he said, hoping he sounded contrite, but it was hard to keep the mirth from his voice. "I thought you brought it out for me?"

"I did," Justin admitted. He scooped up another spoonful, and this time Lance waited until the cool tip of the spoon rested against his lips before he opened his mouth. Justin eased the spoon inside, and the ice cream was cold against his teeth. He kept his mouth closed as Justin pulled the spoon free, stopping to wipe up a stray drop on the corner of Lance's mouth with the edge of the spoon.

Another spoonful. This time Lance let the spoon sit on his lip for a moment as he swallowed the first mouthful. "It's melting," Justin said, pressing the plastic utensil insistently against Lance's closed lips. "Open up."

"I'm not finished --" Lance started to say, but the second his mouth was open the spoon was inside. Justin laughed as he used the spoon to wipe up the ice cream as it ran down either side of Lance's mouth.

"I told you it was melting," he said.

Lance swallowed quickly. Before he could say anything, though, the spoon was back at his lips, full of ice cream. Justin was right -- the afternoon sun was warm, and the ice cream in the cup was melting. As the spoon rested against his lips, the ice cream on it slid forward. Before he could open his mouth, it slipped off the spoon and down the side of his face. Justin laughed again, and Lance laughed too, ice cream on his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his chin.

Justin leaned forward and licked the ice cream from his chin. Small, wet kisses trailed through the sweet goo as Justin kissed away the ice cream on Lance's chin and cheeks. When he got to Lance's mouth, Lance was already aching for his lips, his touch. His tongue reached out and licked a small dab of ice cream from the tip of Justin's nose, and then their lips met, sticky and warm and wet. Justin's tongue entered the coolness of Lance's mouth, tasting ice cream. Lance leaned up into the kiss, his hands encircling Justin's head, the curls tight and bouncy beneath his touch. He pulled Justin closer and moaned as Justin nipped his lips gently between his teeth. The sounds of their breath, their noses pressed against each other's cheeks, were quick and heavy. Lance moaned again and shifted slightly, pulling Justin closer.

Suddenly something cold and soft plopped on his chest, and Lance released Justin, scooting back quickly. Justin looked at him, confusion in his eyes, his face and lips smeared with white streaks of ice cream, and then he looked at Lance's chest and laughed. Lance looked down and saw the rest of the ice cream from the cup, sitting in a white lump on his chest. Thin rivulets of the sticky stuff ran down his stomach and onto his shorts, running down around the rise of his erection to the ground below.

Laughing shakily, Lance wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and lay back down, relieved. For a moment there he thought maybe one of the others had found them ...

Justin tossed the empty cup away. "Want any more?" he asked as the ice cream melted. Lance shook his head and sighed. Justin pushed the bulk of the ice cream off of Lance's chest and then crawled closer. When his tongue licked Lance's lower stomach, Lance drew his breath in sharply. Justin traced the muscles in his stomach with his tongue and Lance closed his eyes at the sensation. Then Justin ran one hand up Lance's leg, over his shorts, until he pressed against Lance's hard erection. He continued to lick away the ice cream as his hand rubbed Lance's cock through the damp fabric. Lance ran one hand through Justin's curls again while the other traced Justin's spine through his thin T-shirt.

Justin edged dangerously close to the waistband of Lance's shorts, his hand squeezing Lance's crotch gently. When his tongue darted under the waistband, Lance couldn't stand it any longer. He wanted to taste Justin again; he wanted to smother him with kisses and taste his skin, his mouth, his tongue. Sitting up, Lance pulled Justin towards him, hungry. Justin squeezed Lance's erection and pressed his lips to Lance's, pushing him back to the ground. Lance cradled Justin's face in both hands as Justin moved closer until his body leaned against Lance's. With one knee he opened Lance's legs wider, his hand slipping below Lance's erection to cup the soft scrotum. As he squeezed gently, Lance thrust his hips up, his erection rubbing almost painfully against Justin's denim-clad thigh. Lance kissed Justin's lips, his chin, his cheeks, and thrust again.

Justin moved his hips, his own erection pressing against the tender skin of Lance's lower stomach. He kneaded Lance's scrotum with one hand while the other ran through Lance's hair, pushing it back from his forehead. Justin sucked on Lance's lips, tugging at them, his tongue licking the skin still sweet from the ice cream. As Lance rubbed against his leg, Justin shifted his erection against Lance's stomach, his cock hard through his jeans. Lance covered Justin's mouth with his own, kissing him deeply, their tongues dancing over each other eagerly.

A dog started barking, and Lance groaned. He could recognize those tiny yips anywhere. _Busta._ Chris's dog. Justin kissed him once more and pulled back, his cock still pressed against Lance's stomach, his hand rubbing Lance more and more slowly. "Guess they're back," he said, running his hand through Lance's hair again.

"I'm not inviting them next time," Lance declared. He thrust once more, pressing the length of his erection hard against Justin's thigh and holding it there for a moment before letting it fall away.

Justin smiled and kissed Lance's nose. His hand released Lance's sac and trailed over the hard rod of his erection, the tip of his penis, his lower stomach, his chest, until it rested on one hard nipple. He pinched the nipple before disentangling himself and standing up. He helped Lance to his feet and, looking at the white mess across Lance's chest, said, "You better get cleaned up before they think that's something other than ice cream all over you."

Laughing, Lance said, "We didn't get that far yet."

Justin gave his hand a squeeze before letting go. "Not yet," he said softly, but his eyes held a promise that sent shivers of pleasure down Lance's spine.


	11. Sleep Tight

Justin stifled a yawn as he followed the others into the hotel lobby. It was late -- two or three in the morning, he wasn't sure which -- and his ears still buzzed from the night's concert. They had put on one hell of a show -- it never ceased to amaze him when he looked out over a sold-out crowd, everyone there yelling and screaming and crying for them. The rush kept him going throughout the show, giving him energy to dance and sing forever. But once the lights dimmed and they left the stage, fatigue settled in his bones and he could barely stay awake on the bus for as long as it took them to get back to the hotel. Already he was thinking he'd bypass a shower and just fall into bed. Maybe he wouldn't even stop to undress.

JC and Joey stood waiting for the elevator, JC's head on Joey's shoulder. Chris leaned against the steel doors, waiting for them to open. Justin looked around for Lance and spotted him sitting on a couch in the lobby, his head leaning on one hand, his eyes closed. "Come on, Lance," Justin called as the chime announced the elevator. The doors slid open and Chris stumbled back, Joey and JC following. "Lance," Justin called again.

Lance hadn't moved. From inside the elevator, Joey asked, "You coming?"

Justin waved them on. "Go ahead. We'll catch up."

The elevator doors slid closed. Walking over to Lance, Justin leaned down and shook his friend gently. "Lance?" he whispered.

"Hm," was Lance's reply. His head lolled back as Justin shook him again.

"Wake up, man. You can sleep in your room. C'mon." But Lance didn't open his eyes, and Justin sighed, frustrated. What, he wasn't tired too?

Taking Lance's arm, Justin pulled him to his feet. He was heavier than he looked, and Justin stumbled back as Lance leaned heavily against him. Suddenly Lance was in his arms, sleepily holding onto him, and Justin felt a familiar ache in his groin as Lance's breath fanned his neck. Lance murmured against Justin's skin, and he was glad the others had left. Slipping one hand around Lance's waist, he led him stumbling to the elevator. As they waited for the car to descend, Lance leaned on Justin's shoulder, his arms tight around Justin's waist, and Justin ran his hand over Lance's back, his face resting on the top of Lance's head. Despite the fact that he was exhausted and Lance was half asleep, fire coursed through his veins at their touch. He hoped he would be able to sleep after this.

When the elevator opened, Justin led Lance inside and leaned him against the wall. He disentangled himself from Lance's arms, hating to break away, and turned to punch the button for their floor. Behind him he heard Lance slide to the floor, and when the doors closed and the car began moving, he turned to find Lance sitting on the ground, his arms crossed over his knees, his head in his arms. "Lance," Justin whined. The thought of picking him up again made his knees weak.

Bending down, he lifted Lance's arms, pulling him up. Lance unfolded his arms and wrapped them around Justin's neck, letting himself be picked up. He leaned heavily against Justin, who steadied himself before grabbing Lance's legs, one thigh in each hand, and lifting his friend up. Lance wrapped his legs around Justin's waist and clung to him. As the elevator came to a stop, Justin staggered back and tripped where the elevator didn't quite meet the floor.

They landed on the ground, Lance on top of Justin, almost knocking the wind out of him. Justin felt Lance pressing against his groin, and without warning he was hard, his erection tight between them. When Lance shifted off him, he bit his lip to keep from crying out from the sensation. "I'm sorry," Lance muttered, staggering against the wall. "I'm so --"

Justin stood up gingerly and reached for Lance. Wrapping an arm around his waist, he pulled Lance's arm over his shoulder and let Lance rest his head against his shoulder. "You owe me one, buddy," he grumbled, but his crotch ached sweetly and he wasn't really mad. Fumbling in Lance's jacket pockets, he found the keycard to Lance's room. 2421. Luckily it was close to the elevator and they didn't have far to go. He slid the keycard into the lock and the door popped open.

Inside the room was dark, the only light coming from around the edges of the curtains. Pushing the door shut behind them, Justin led Lance to the bed. He leaned down and clicked on the small tabletop lamp, which cast a small circle of light on the bed and threw shadows at the blank television screen across the room. "Gimme your foot," Justin commanded, his voice low.

Lance leaned down over his back as Justin pulled off first one sneaker, then the other. Then Justin straightened a bit and tugged at Lance's pants, the windsuit material noisy in the darkness. He let his fingers brush against the front of Lance's underwear as he pulled the pants down; above him Lance moaned sleepily, the bulge at his crotch hardening. Justin pulled off Lance's windbreaker and tossed it aside, followed by his T-shirt. When he stood in just his white briefs, his eyes closed, his head still on Justin's shoulder, Justin pulled back the covers of the bed and helped him lie down. He tugged the pants off Lance's feet as his friend snuggled into the bed.

Weariness sank over Justin. He pulled the covers up to Lance's chin and clicked off the lamp. As he headed for the door, intent on his own room, Lance called out softly, "You staying?"

Justin stopped, the doorknob in hand. His erection swelled at the thought of sleeping next to Lance. Who would say anything? They had all slept over in each other's rooms before, and they were both too sleepy to do anything. "Do you want me to?" he asked.

From the bed Lance murmured his assent. "Keep me warm," he said sleepily.

Justin needed no other prompting. By the time he reached the bed, he had stripped down to just his boxers. Climbing beneath the covers on the other side, he slid close to Lance and tentatively wrapped his arms around his friend. Lance rolled over and ran his hands beneath Justin's arms, pulling him close. Their erections pressed hard against each other, separated by just the thin material of their undergarments. Justin ran a hand through Lance's hair and down his back, and Lance nuzzled against Justin's chest and sighed, content. "Good night," he whispered, his hands warm on Justin's bare skin.

Justin cradled him close and kissed his forehead. Lance leaned back slightly and Justin kissed his lips, licking them with his tongue. The heat flared within him but he was too tired to do anything else about it. He hugged Lance tight and whispered, "Good night."

As Justin closed his eyes, he wondered briefly how he would ever be able to sleep without Lance in his arms again. It just felt so right.


	12. Private Dancer

Lance stretched out on top of the freshly made bed in his hotel room. Outside the rain beat a steady rhythm against the windowpane. He wondered where the others were -- it was late in the afternoon, not quite time for dinner, and he was bored. Staring at the ceiling, he let his thoughts drift to Justin. He pictured those kinky curls, those sparkling eyes, that quick smile. He imagined holding his friend's muscular body close, and his arms began to ache. Just remembering the few stolen kisses they managed to share enflamed his senses and ignited his blood.

A knock on the door startled him out of his reverie. "Come in," he called, not wanting to get up.

As the door opened he shifted on the bed to see who it was. Justin entered, closing the door behind him, and Lance heard him turn the lock. In his hand he held a teen magazine with their pictures plastered across the cover. "Listen to this," Justin said by way of hello.

"Nice to see you, too," Lance said, grumpy.

Justin came over to the bed and plopped down on his stomach next to Lance. Smiling, he planted a quick kiss on Lance's lips. "That better?" he asked.

Lance ran his tongue over his lower lip and said, "Not really, but if there's more to come ..."

Justin laughed and opened the magazine. "You're so damn cute when you're horny," he said.

"And you're such a tease," Lance countered, smiling. The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon flirting with Justin, the two of them lying within inches of each other, excited him. He leaned back and tried to look at the magazine without sitting up. "What'cha got?"

Justin held the magazine up, showing him the front. "Aren't you a little old for _Bop_?" Lance asked.

"I wanted to find out all there is to know about my favorite member of NSYNC," Justin replied, quoting one of the splashier headlines from the front cover.

Lance smiled. "And what's it say in there about him?"

Clearing his throat, Justin read, "Lance Bass has always dreamed of stardom. What would this sexy singer be if he wasn't in NSYNC? I'd like to work for NASA, he says. If not a star then among them, eh, Lance?"

Lance rolled his eyes. "That's so cheesy," he groaned. And then, the hint of a smile in his voice, he asked, "What about _my_ favorite NSYNC member?"

Justin grinned. "Who would that be?"

Looking at Justin, Lance said, "Joey. What's it say about him?"

Hurt and surprise flittered across Justin's face, but then he saw the glint in Lance's eyes and said, "You're kidding, right?"

"What's it say?" he said, sitting up.

Justin pulled the magazine back. "Lance --"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." Lance reached for the magazine, but Justin pulled it back again, looking at him with large, sad eyes. "Justin, I'm kidding." He leaned forward and kissed the tip of Justin's nose. "Really."

Justin bit the inside of his cheek and stared at Lance so hard, Lance almost wished he could rewind the moment and play it again differently. "Justin," he said softly, "I'm sorry."

Suddenly Justin smiled like pure sunshine, and Lance sighed, relieved. "I had you going there, didn't I?" Justin asked, giggling. "You thought I was pissed."

Lance swatted at him playfully. "Don't do that again, man," he said, laying back down on the bed.

Now it was Justin's turn to look contrite. "I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning closer. He pressed his lips against Lance's, easing them open with his tongue. Lance tried to keep them shut but Justin was insistent, and his tongue slipped inside Lance's mouth, cool and spicy. His kiss was sweet and gentle, and when he pulled back the way he looked at Lance told him that everything was fine between them. Resting his head next to Lance's, he rolled over on his back beside him and asked, "Do you really want to be an astronaut?"

Lance shrugged. "I just think it would be cool," he admitted.

Justin turned to look at him, his curls tickling Lance's cheek. "You know what I would be if I wasn't in the group?"

Lance shook his head. "A veterinarian?" he joked.

Beside him Justin sat up. "A vet?" he asked, laughing. "No -- I'd be an exotic dancer."

"A what?" Lance asked. He ran a hand down Justin's back, tracing the outline of his spine through his thin sweater. "Like those Chippendale's guys?"

Justin nodded. "Exactly. All I need are a few good moves and I could really pull in the dough."

Laughing, Lance said, "You can already dance. You just need to learn how to strip."

Looking over his shoulder at him, Justin grinned and said, "That can't be too hard."

"Then do it," Lance challenged.

Smiling, Justin stood up and, crossing the room, pressed the play button on Lance's CD player. Garth Brooks' voice filled the room. Justin turned. "Don't you have anything I can dance to?" he asked.

Lance pointed at his CDs, stacked to the side of the stereo. As Justin sifted through them, Lance watched the way his sweater pulled against his back. He imagined Justin swaying before him, dressed in nothing but his boxers, and suddenly his cock swelled against his jeans, hardening. Justin found a song he wanted and changed CDs. Standing in front of Lance, he stood with his legs slightly apart, his arms at his side. He locked eyes with Lance and licked his lips slowly as the opening notes of Madonna's "Fever" filled the air. Lance wondered how he would make it through the song.

"Never know how much I love you," Justin sang, swinging his hips in time with the music. "Never know how much I care." Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he tugged the end of his sweater up, an inch with every beat. Soon his flat stomach was exposed, the muscles flexing as he moved. Further, and his already erect nipples slipped free from the shirt. As Justin pulled the sweater over his head, Lance reached out to run his hands down Justin's chest, but Justin danced just out of reach. Twisting his sweater around his head, he tossed it at Lance. It landed on his chest, and Lance laughed.

Justin moved his shoulders to the music as his fingers undid the button of his jeans. Slowly he slid down the zipper, his gaze still on Lance's face, but Lance found himself unable to meet his eyes as the zipper opened. Then Justin hooked his fingers in the waistband of his jeans and wiggled his legs, tugging the jeans down one agonizingly slow inch at a time. By the time they pooled around his ankles, Lance was ready to jump off the bed and help him.

Stepping out of the jeans, Justin came closer to the bed again, wearing just his boxers. His erection strained the fabric, poking the front pouch open slightly. Lance watched as Justin thrust his hips to the beat of the music, dancing closer and closer. Sliding to the edge of the bed, Lance opened his legs as Justin danced between his knees, losing himself in the music. Lance rubbed his hands down the thighs of his jeans, leaving sweaty prints behind.

Suddenly Justin was right in front of him, the bulge in his shorts achingly close to Lance's face. He couldn't take his eyes from Justin's boxers, but then he felt hands on his cheeks and Justin raised his face up towards his. The smoldering look in Justin's eyes made Lance whimper with desire. Bending down, Justin brushed his face across Lance's, his curls soft against Lance's brow. Lance reached out for Justin, one hand encircling his warm waist, the other fingering his hard erection.

Then Justin spun around and danced lower and lower until he nearly sat in Lance's lap. His buttocks ground into Lance's erection, and Lance ran his hands around Justin's chest, moaning. As Justin continued his lap dance, Lance let his hands stray to Justin's stiff cock, and he squeezed its thick length through the fabric of his boxers. Justin tossed his head back onto Lance's shoulder, his mouth open, his eyes closed. Not losing his rhythm, he thrust into Lance's hand as the music swelled around them.

Lance bit Justin's shoulder playfully and squeezed harder as Justin pressed against his own erection with each thrust of his hips.

Lance felt dampness in his palm, and knew Justin was close to coming. Wrapping his other arm around Justin tightly, he pushed through the opening in the front of the boxers and gripped Justin's hard, hot flesh in his hand. Kinky hair tickled his wrist as he squeezed Justin's cock, letting his hand slide over its stiff length. When Justin began thrusting harder, Lance held on tightly. He was on the verge of coming himself -- his erection was tight against Justin's buttocks, and with every grind of Justin's hips, he thrust forward gently, mindful of his rough jeans against Justin's thin boxers. Already he felt wet -- he knew another few moments and he would need to change his pants.

And then Justin reached back, gripping Lance's hips, and Lance's hand became slick and sticky as Justin came in his hand. Lance felt his own orgasm rip through him, and he rode the wave of pleasure to its end. When he opened his eyes, he found Justin turning in his lap, one hand on Lance's chin, his mouth covering Lance's face and lips with small kisses. "What a lovely way to burn," he sang as the song played itself out.

Lance felt a coolness on his wet crotch and let Justin push him down to the bed. As he wrapped his arms around Justin's bare back, he thought, _What a lovely way indeed._


	13. Boys' Night Out

Justin checked himself out in the mirror. _Looking fly_ , he thought, smoothing down his curls. Chris walked up behind him and rubbed his hair. "Hey, watch it!" Justin cried, ducking out of reach. Chris grinned and pushed him aside.

"My turn," Chris said, running a comb through his hair. "You're hogging the mirror."

Justin stepped in front of his friend. "There are other mirrors in this house," he said, playing with his hair again.

"You two stop it," JC said as he passed by. "You look fine. The girls will be falling all over you. Now come on."

From the bedroom Joey called, "Someone make sure Lance is ready to go. Five more minutes and I'm going to the club by myself."

Chris tossed his comb into the bedroom, hitting Joey on the arm. "Hey!" he cried, and Justin tucked out of the bathroom to find Lance. He didn't care if he met a million girls tonight -- the thought of that crowded dance floor excited him. Out there, hidden in the crowd, he and Lance could rub against each other all night long and the others would never know.

The door to the den was half shut. Knocking, he pushed it open wider and peeked inside. Lance lay on the sofa, a book propped open on his chest. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and no shoes. He had one arm draped across his brow, and he didn't look up as Justin entered. Justin studied Lance for a moment before saying, "Hey, man, you ready to go?"

Lance shook his head. "I'm not going," he said.

Justin felt his heart sink. "Why not? It'll be fun. Hell, JC is even going. You _got_ to go." He hoped Lance heard the eagerness in his voice -- he didn't want to say anything where the others might overhear.

But Lance just shook his head again. "I'm not up to it," he said. "I thought I'd just stay here."

"By yourself?" Justin asked.

Looking over the top of his book, Lance met Justin's gaze and said softly, "I thought maybe you'd like to stay with me."

 _Alone_ , Justin read in Lance's eyes. _Together. Without any distractions. Alone._ Without another word, Justin raced from the room, back towards the others. He burst into the bedroom just as JC was pulling on his jean jacket. Joey and JC looked up at him, and Chris stuck his head out of the bathroom. "Lance isn't feeling well," Justin lied, trying to catch his breath. "I think -- I think maybe I should stay here with him."

"What's wrong?" JC asked, but Justin just shrugged. Joey pushed past him and headed for the den. JC and Chris followed, Justin right behind them.

Joey stepped into the den. "What's up, man?" he asked as the others crowded in behind him.

Lance shrugged. "I just don't feel like going," he said, setting the book down.

From the hallway Justin offered, "He said his stomach was bothering him." He hoped Lance would take the hint.

He did. Lance nodded and sighed pitifully. "I don't know what it was," he said, pressing the book against his chest. "But I don't feel good at all."

"Maybe it was those tacos," Chris said, but JC hit his arm.

"There was nothing wrong with those," he said, offended. "I followed the directions on the box."

Joey was watching Lance thoughtfully, and Justin held his breath. _Please_ , he prayed. _Please don't ask any more questions. Just go._ "If you think it's nothing serious --" Joey started, but Lance nodded again.

"I'll be fine by tomorrow, I'm sure," he said. "You guys go on, have a great time."

Joey looked back at Justin. A nervousness crept into his stomach at the way Joey was looking at him, and Justin fought to keep from moving anxiously. He was so ready for them to leave. A sweet ache was already blossoming in his groin -- he wanted them to leave _now_. "You sure you don't mind staying?" Joey asked.

Justin shook his head. "Nah, it's nothing," he said in an off-hand manner. "If anything comes up, I'll call you. What he needs is some rest and ..." He trailed off, aware that he was babbling.

JC came to the rescue. "Chicken soup," he said, and Justin looked at him blankly. JC explained. "Chicken soup," he said again. "It makes you feel better."

"Right," Justin said. "Well, you guys get going. Don't stay out all night. Knock 'em dead." _Just go!_ his mind screamed.

It took another five minutes for them to get to the door. Justin was almost frantic with lust and desire by the time they stood on the porch. "Don't forget to cook some chicken soup for Lance," JC said.

"And feed my dog," Chris called.

"Chicken soup," Justin said, nodding. "Cook the dog."

"No, _feed_ the dog," Chris corrected. "And cook the soup."

Justin nodded again. "Feed the dog the soup, got it." He tried to close the door but JC held it open.

"Are _you_ okay?" he asked.

Justin flashed a big smile. "I'm fine," he said. "I just don't want you guys to miss out on all the fun."

Joey looked at him oddly. "You're not going to cook the dog when we leave, are you?"

Justin shook his head. "No, I promise. Feed the dog. Cook the soup. Now _go_." This time they stepped off the porch as he closed the door. Resting his back against the door, he waited until he heard the engine come to life and the car back out of the driveway before he locked the door. _The dog can wait_ , he thought as he headed back for the den.

Lance was still lying on the couch, once again reading. "They gone?" he asked, not looking up.

Without answering, Justin kicked the door closed behind him. In one fluid motion he slipped out of his jean jacket, kicked off his shoes, and crossed the room. He plucked the book from Lance's hand and tossed it aside carelessly. "Hey --" Lance said as Justin placed a hand on either side of his head and lowered himself onto his friend. The way Lance boldly looked into his eyes turned him on, and he pressed his hips against Lance's crotch, surprised to feel a thick erection already straining against Lance's jeans. As Lance's hands slid up his sides and across his back, Justin shifted into a more comfortable position between Lance and the back of the couch. He ran one finger down Lance's chest, tracing the pattern on his shirt, and kissed Lance's neck. "I thought they'd never leave," he breathed against Lance's skin.

Lance laughed and hugged Justin close. Justin ran his hand up Lance's chest and cupped his head in his hand. Fingering his earlobe, he turned Lance towards him and brushed his open lips across Lance's chin. Lance reached out for Justin's mouth with his own, his tongue licking above Justin's upper lip, tasting salt and sweat. Justin kissed Lance's lower lip, sucking on it as he tugged lightly. Lance closed his lips over Justin's mouth and thrust his hips gently, his thigh rubbing Justin's cock. Moaning, Justin bit Lance's lip as his hands roamed Lance's body, teasing his nipples through his shirt, tickling his stomach, toying with the top of his jeans.

With sure hands, Justin unbuttoned Lance's jeans and slid the zipper down over the bulge of his erection. Stroking his hardness through the underwear, Justin eased his tongue into Lance's mouth, pressing him back against the sofa. Lance moaned against him as Justin teased his erection. And then his hands were on Justin, finding their way around his chest, his back, his crotch.

When Lance undid his jeans, the zipper opened on its own, pushed down by his swollen cock. He thrust against Lance's thigh, rubbing his hard erection against Lance's jeans, squeezing Lance's own erection at the same time. Lance thrust against his hand, and Justin slipped his fingers into the front of Lance's underwear, his hand cupping hard, hot flesh and coarse hair. Encircling Lance's shaft, he squeezed the soft skin, feeling it stiffen in his hand. Lance's mouth kissed his insistently, his hand reaching inside Justin's boxers, massaging his erection as Justin rocked his hips back and forth, helping him. In his own hand Lance was solid and slightly wet. Justin thrust his tongue deeper into Lance's mouth and rolled onto him, their hands squished between them, their erections pressed against each other.

Justin thrust against Lance, felt Lance's hard cock thrust back, and groaned into Lance's mouth. He pulled his hand free and cupped Lance's face with both hands; Lance ran his hands down Justin's back and beneath his jeans, pressing his pelvis against his, holding him close. He opened his legs slightly, letting Justin's legs fall to the sofa, and Justin dug in with his knees as he began rubbing his hard erection against Lance's, slowly at first, and then with increasing intensity.

Each thrust rubbed their cocks against each other, squeezing, pressing, until Lance pulled his mouth away from Justin's and threw his head back, his eyes half-closed, his mouth open in a silent cry. Justin thrust harder, faster, and Lance came beneath him, the sudden wetness warm against his boxers. He slipped his thumb into Lance's mouth and as Lance bit down on it, Justin felt his own orgasm rip through him, his juices mixing with Lance's to create a hot, sticky mess between them.

Sighing, Justin pushed himself up on his knees. Still holding Lance's head in his hands, he kissed Lance's lips greedily. Lance wrapped his arms around Justin's back and pulled him down on top of him. The heat in Justin's groin flared as their wilting erections touched, and then he let himself get lost in their kisses.

Outside the window came the familiar sound of tires crunching gravel. Breaking their kiss, Justin rolled his eyes and laid his head beneath Lance's chin. "I think they're back," he whispered, his voice thick.

Lance ran his hands up Justin's back until he cupped Justin's chin. Running a finger over Justin's cheek, he sighed shakily. "We gotta get cleaned up."

"I gotta feed that dog," Justin replied, but he slid his hands beneath Lance and hugged him tight. When he heard the front door open, he pulled away slowly, rising to his knees above Lance. Tucking his slightly aroused penis back into his boxers, he zipped up his jeans and pulled his shirt down to cover the wet fabric. Then he playfully squeezed Lance's cock before zipping his jeans up, as well. The denim of Lance's jeans was stained dark where they had come together. Leaning down, he licked Lance's earlobe and whispered, "I'm glad we didn't go to the club."

"So am I," Lance replied, his hand trailing across Justin's back as Justin got off the couch. He tossed an afghan over Lance's stomach and legs to hide his damp jeans just as the door opened.

Joey entered, followed by JC and Chris. "We felt bad leaving you guys here alone," Joey explained. "It didn't feel right, going out clubbing when you're home sick. So we decided to come back, keep you company."

Justin sat down on the couch by Lance's legs. "You guys didn't have to do that," he said.

"Did you make the chicken soup?" JC asked as Busta ran into the room, yipping. "I see you didn't cook the dog."

Justin ran a hand through his curls to straighten them and blushed lightly. "I spilled the soup all over Lance," he said, gesturing at the afghan. "He's gotta change."

Seeing Lance wrap the afghan around his waist, Chris whistled low. "Man, that had to burn!"

"It _was_ hot," Lance admitted, and Justin covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.


	14. Suspicious Minds

Joey dunked the basketball through the hoop. "He shoots; he scores!" he cried as Justin caught the ball. "The crowd goes wild!"

Justin passed the ball to JC, who dribbled around Joey before passing back to Justin. They were in a small ball court behind Lance's house. From the sidelines Lance watched them play. Sweat stained Justin's tank top in a dark vee-shape, and his loose shorts pulled tight across his firm buttocks whenever he reached for the ball. Lance shoved his hands deep in his pockets and admired Justin's moves, the way his curls caught the sun, the way his tank top billowed out, offering tantalizingly brief glimpses of his bare chest. As Justin tried for a three point shot, he glanced over at Lance and flashed him a bright smile.

Lance grinned back. As the ball sank through the hoop a voice beside him said, "Sweet shot."

Lance turned to find Chris standing next to him. "Hey," he said. "What's up, man?"

Chris looked at him a moment, indecision written plainly on his face. Then he seemed to make up his mind, and he asked in a low voice, "Can we talk?"

Lance's stomach clenched nervously, but he nodded and said, "Sure." He followed Chris off the court and out of the yard.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. Around them the streets were empty, the houses quiet. Despite the peaceful atmosphere of the neighborhood, Lance felt a sliver of fear pierce through him. What did Chris want? He prayed it had nothing to do with Justin. Part of him didn't care what the others thought -- the way he felt when he held Justin close made him want to tell the world, shout from the rooftops and defy the gods. But he didn't know how Justin felt about their friends knowing ... well, knowing about them, together. He didn't want to say anything without talking with Justin first, but if Chris asked him point blank what was going on, Lance didn't know if he could lie convincingly enough and say nothing. Not when images of Justin's sweaty body kept crowding his thoughts.

But when Chris spoke, Lance felt the tension between them disappear. "I want to ask your advice about something," he said, and Lance didn't think this was about him and Justin.

"What about?" Lance asked.

Chris sighed, searching for the words. Finally he said, "It's about Danielle. She has a problem."

 _Uh-oh_ , Lance thought, the sinking feeling returning to the pit of his stomach. Danielle was Chris's girlfriend, and suddenly Lance realized he hadn't seen her lately, and he thought the worst. "She's not --" He took a deep breath. "She's not pregnant, is she?"

Chris stopped walking and stared at him, dumbfounded. "Preg--" he began, and then he laughed. "God, no! Don't scare me like that, man! Jesus!" Running a shaky hand through his hair, he caught up with Lance, who laughed.

"Sorry, man," he said, clapping Chris on the back. He shook his head. "I was gonna say, I can't help you there."

"Jesus," Chris said again softly. They continued walking, Lance not wanting to rush his friend. Finally, Chris spoke again. "No, she's not pregnant. She's got --" He sighed. "She's got these two friends. She's really close to both of them. But she thinks there's something going on between them and she doesn't know what to do."

"Something like what?" Lance asked.

"She's not sure," he said. "Nothing bad, but she thinks they might be fooling around together and she's just worried. She doesn't want to see them hurt."

Lance shrugged. "She can't do anything about that," he said. "You love, you get hurt, you learn. You move on. She can't protect them."

Chris looked at him closely. "But what if something happens and they get in a fight? She can't take sides --"

"Whatever happens between them," Lance said, "is none of her business."

"But she's afraid --" Chris began again.

"Of what?" Lance asked quietly. Suddenly he didn't think Chris was talking about Danielle anymore.

"Of losing them," Chris whispered.

Lance turned and met Chris's gaze. His dark eyes were sad, full of trepidation and concern. He gripped Lance's arm tightly, his voice low and urgent. "Promise me you'll stay safe," he said.

Lance nodded. "I will," he promised.

"You know you can always talk to me, right?" Chris continued. "Any time, about anything. You know this, right?"

"I'll be fine," Lance said.

Chris looked at him a moment longer and then nodded. Lance wondered exactly what Chris suspected about him and Justin. He wondered if any of the others had noticed something between them, too.

Back on the court, Justin tossed the basketball to Joey, who caught it deftly in his hands. "That's it for me," JC said, looking at Joey. "I'm gonna head back inside."

Joey nodded, and Justin got the feeling that something unsaid passed between them that he missed. He mopped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his tank top as JC left, and he felt Joey staring at him. Suddenly Joey asked, "Can I ask you something, Curly?"

His stomach fluttered but he kept his voice steady as he said, "Go ahead."

"What's up with you and Lance?" Joey asked, and Justin felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Nothing," he said, a little too sharply. Not looking at Joey, he started off the court.

But Joey stepped in front of him, the basketball in the crook of his arm, an earnest look on his face. "C'mon, man," Joey said. "It's me you're talking to. Joey. You can tell me."

Justin glared at his friend. "There's nothing to tell," he said.

"Bullshit!" Joey cried. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. What's going on?"

Stepping around him, Justin said, "Why don't you ask Lance?"

Joey reached out and caught his arm. Justin tried to shrug his hand off but Joey held on, and when Justin met his gaze again Joey said, "I'm not asking him. I'm asking _you_."

Anger flared within him, and his eyes flashed. "It's none of your business," Justin said, his voice hard and cold.

"It _is_ my business," Joey replied. His voice was soft and his eyes so compassionate that Justin felt his anger dissipate, leaving him shaky, tired, and confused. "You're my friend, Justin -- you both are. I don't want to see you get hurt --"

"I won't," Justin said. When he shrugged again Joey let his hand fall away. Justin turned and stalked off, taking deep breaths and measured steps to steady himself. He wouldn't run, though he longed to put as much distance between himself and Joey as he possibly could. His eyes stung and he blinked away tears and sweat and wondered if they all knew about him and Lance. He hadn't wanted them to know -- the way he felt about Lance was something private, something special, something between the two of them alone.

Inside he hurried down the hall to his room, a scowl on his face to deter anyone he met from asking him any more questions, but he didn't run into anyone. When he passed the closed door to Lance's room, he stopped and hesitated, his hand on the cool wood. Then he knocked softly.

Lance opened the door and Justin pushed past him into the room. Taking in his friend's red eyes and grim frown, Lance knew someone had asked him about their relationship, too. "Who was it?" he asked as he closed the door.

"Joey." Justin choked back a sob and sighed, looking around the room, his back to Lance.

Lance watched his friend's shoulders shake as Justin clenched his fists at his sides. Stepping closer, Lance ran his hands down Justin's arms and around his chest, encircling him. He rested his head on Justin's back, still damp with sweat, and hugged him tightly until he felt the tension in Justin's muscles melt away. In a weary voice Justin asked, "Which one talked to you? JC?"

"Chris," Lance replied.

"Do they all know?" Justin asked, his voice breaking with tears.

Lance hugged him tighter. In his arms Justin felt so right -- he wished he could ease his mind, take away his pain. Instead he just held on as Justin reached up and ran his hands along Lance's arms. "I didn't say anything," Lance whispered. "We don't have to tell them if you don't want to."

"They don't have to know!" Justin cried. "This is between you and me."

"Do you ..." Lance gulped, suddenly afraid, but he had to ask. He had to know. "Do you want to stop ..."

Justin turned in his arms and cradled Lance's face in his hands. His eyes were puffy and red, glistening with unshed tears that made them shine like deep blue crystals. Losing himself in those eyes, Lance couldn't imagine ever letting go. But if that's what Justin wanted -- "No," Justin said, shaking his head. "Don't say that. Don't even _think_ that." Searching Lance's face, Justin whispered, "I love you. I can't change that, and I wouldn't want to if I could. I love the way you make me feel, and I don't care what the others think."

Tears of relief pricked at Lance's eyes. He tightened his grip around Justin's waist as Justin's words sank in. _I love you._ Lance replayed them in his mind, savoring them. "I love you, too," he whispered, and Justin pulled his face to his, his mouth covering Lance's. Justin's tongue slipped between Lance's lips easily, caressing his teeth, his tongue, claiming him. Lance licked Justin's lips, tasting him, and he ran his hands under the sweaty tank top and over Justin's cool back. Justin let his hands roam through Lance's hair as he slipped his arms around Lance's neck and pulled him closer, his tongue hungry in Lance's mouth.

Then he ran his tongue over Lance's lips lightly, trailing small wet kisses along his jaw until he held Lance's earlobe between his teeth. Lance moaned against Justin's curly hair as Justin nipped gently, sucking on the soft skin, running his tongue behind Lance's ear. "I love you," Justin whispered again, his breath hot against Lance's skin. "It feels so good to finally say it. I might never stop."

Nuzzling his face against Justin's neck, Lance said, "I don't want you to." Then, thinking of the others, he asked, "What are we going to do?"

He felt Justin shrug against him as they hugged. "Wait and see," Justin said. "Joey didn't ask me straight up, and I think I managed to piss him off enough that he won't ask again anytime soon."

Lance nodded and kissed the hollow of Justin's throat. "Chris didn't ask -- he just said be careful."

"They don't know how right this feels," Justin said, rubbing his hands across Lance's back. He kissed Lance's ear again, his wet tongue warm, exciting him. "We'll tell them when they absolutely need to know."

Lance hugged him close and agreed. They wouldn't understand this, he knew. He didn't fully understand it himself, but Justin had said he loved him, and that's all that mattered to him right now.


	15. A Stolen Moment

Justin knocked on the door to Lance's hotel room. No one answered. He knocked again, harder. They had fifteen minutes until they had to load up and move on to the next city on the tour, and Justin wanted to spend that time alone with Lance. The past few days had been hectic and they hadn't managed to get any time to themselves. Justin so wanted to just hold Lance close for a couple of moments, to run his fingers through Lance's hair and kiss his face, his hands, his lips. He knocked on the door one more time.

The door opened slightly.

"Lance?" Justin called out softly. He pushed the door open wider. Warm, damp steam wafted out around him into the hall, and he could hear running water and Lance's deep voice, humming low. _Must be in the shower_ , Justin thought, a slow smile playing across his face. He entered the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

The door to the bathroom stood open, and the steam from the hot shower fogged the mirror in there. Justin peeked into the bathroom before sitting on the edge of the bed. Across from him was a long mirror, reflecting him back to himself. In the mirror he could see into the bathroom, the drawn shower curtain, the towel rack, the steam rising above the shower rod. When the water turned off, he saw Lance's hand reach out and snag a towel from the rack. He waited as he listened -- he heard Lance rub the towel over his body, occasionally bumping against the shower curtain.

When Lance stepped out of the shower, the towel was wrapped around his waist. His hair stood on end, and water still clung to his chest and shoulders. Running a hand through his hair, Lance glanced at the mirror and stopped.

Justin smiled. If he could see Lance, that must mean that Lance could see his reflection, as well. "Hey," Justin said, hoping he hadn't startled Lance too much.

"Hey," Lance called back. Scooping up his discarded clothes from the floor, he walked out of the bathroom. He tossed the clothes onto the half-filled duffel bag lying open on the floor. "How long you been here?"

Justin shrugged. "A few minutes. Don't worry -- I didn't see anything."

Lance grinned. "There's nothing to see."

Letting his gaze wander over the contours of the thin white towel tied around Lance's waist, Justin said, "I don't know about that."

"We only have a few minutes," Lance reminded him.

Justin raised his eyes to meet Lance's. "I didn't really come here for that," he said, but his thick voice said otherwise.

Lance cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?" he asked, coming to the edge of the bed. His damp leg brushed Justin's knee. "What did you come here for?"

Reaching up, Justin took Lance's hands in his and pulled Lance down onto his lap. Lance's wet body was warm through the towel, and Justin wrapped his arms around Lance's shoulders as Lance tucked his head beneath Justin's chin. Lance's hands slipped around Justin's waist and hugged him close. Justin ran one hand through Lance's wet hair while he rubbed his shoulder with the other. Resting his head on top of Lance's, he whispered, "I just wanted to hold you."

Lance squeezed him tighter. "We haven't had much time alone," he admitted. "There's always someone hanging around. I was beginning to wonder --"

"Shh," Justin said. "Nothing's changed. We've just been busy." He began to rock Lance gently, his warm, damp, naked flesh pressed against him arousing Justin. But Lance was right -- they didn't have the time. So he tried to ignore the ache at his groin and forced himself to forget that only the thin towel and his shorts were between Lance's buttocks and his crotch.

In his arms Lance sighed, and Justin turned Lance's face up to his. He kissed Lance's lips, his tongue tracing their softness, his teeth pressing against them as his tongue delved inside. He tasted minty toothpaste and held Lance's head in his hand as they kissed. Lance's breath fanned his cheek, and when Lance pressed harder, Justin let himself be pushed down to the bed. Above him Lance shifted until he lay along the length of Justin's body, and Justin couldn't ignore Lance's erection, insistent against his own. He ran his hands around Lance's waist and up his back as Lance held Justin's head in both hands, his fingers entwined with his curls. Running his hands down, Justin slipped beneath the towel and cupped Lance's butt in his hands, pushing his hips against Justin's own.

Suddenly a knock on the door startled them, and Lance sat up slightly. "Yes?" he called, staring into Justin's eyes. He ran a hand across Justin's eyebrow, and Justin leaned into his touch.

"Lance, we're going." It was JC.

"Be right there," Lance called again. "Just got out of the shower."

He kissed Justin again, his tongue licking against Justin's, when they heard JC through the door again. "Is Justin in there with you?"

Justin nibbled on Lance's lips. "Yeah," he called out, before Lance could answer. "We're coming."

"No, we're not," Lance joked, thrusting his hips gently against Justin's.

Justin rolled over, pinning Lance to the bed. Kissing Lance's lips, his neck, his nipples, he smiled and said, "We gotta make more time for this."

Lance nodded. Then JC knocked again, and they hurried to leave, Justin helping Lance pack while Lance dressed. Another quick kiss before they opened the door, and they left.


	16. Best Medicine

"Woohoo!" Chris whooped as his race car careened off the TV screen and crashed in a fiery blaze. Beside him Joey twisted the controller in his hand, moving his own car past the wreckage. Behind them, JC and Lance laughed. "I suck at this game," Chris cried.

From the back of the tour bus, Justin moaned. "Can you guys keep it down?" he complained.

Glancing back, Joey grumbled, "What's his problem?"

Lance stood up and stretched. Without answering, he made his way back to the cots they slept on while in the bus. Justin lay on one of the bottom bunks, his face buried in a pillow, his arms beneath his body. Squatting down beside the bed, Lance reached out and ran his hand through Justin's curly hair. "You okay?" he asked softly.

Justin turned his face towards Lance. His eyes were rimmed red and raw, and his skin was pale. Lance brushed the hair back from Justin's brow and rubbed his temple gently. "I feel like shit," Justin whispered.

Resting his hand on Justin's cool forehead, Lance said, "You don't feel feverish."

"I don't feel _well_ ," Justin replied, closing his eyes. Lance brushed his hair back again and studied his friend for a few moments.

Then he stood up. "Scoot over," he whispered. Justin complied, rolling back against the wall of the bus, and Lance laid down beside him. Wrapping one arm around Justin's shoulders, he pulled Justin close. Justin rested his head in the crook of Lance's arm, one hand on Lance's chest. Lance brushed at Justin's hair again, tracing the curve of his cheek with his fingers. "Where don't you feel well?" Lance asked.

Justin shrugged against him. "My stomach," he said, a pout in his voice. "My head. My throat."

"Maybe you're coming down with something," Lance suggested. With his other hand he rubbed small patterns into Justin's back.

Justin pulled himself closer to Lance, placing one leg over Lance's. "I hope not," he said. "I can't afford to be sick."

"We'll just have to cancel a few shows," Lance said. "No big deal."

Running his hand across Lance's chest, Justin caressed Lance's nipples until they stood up through his thin T-shirt. Then he plucked at them playfully. Lance looked down the aisle at the others, but they were still focused on the video game, and weren't paying them any attention. "We can't do that," Justin said. He was watching Lance's nipples as he picked at them. "We can't let our fans down."

"We can't have you too sick to perform, either," Lance admonished. Through his shirt, Justin's touch was ticklish and erotic, arousing more than just his nipples. He shifted his legs beneath Justin's until Justin's knee leaned heavily against his crotch.

Justin pushed against Lance's side, lying flush against him. "I'll be fine," Justin whispered, his breath warm along Lance's neck. He nuzzled closer and kissed Lance lightly, his lips just brushing Lance's skin. "I just need a little rest, is all."

"Then maybe I should leave," Lance suggested. He pushed his hips up against Justin's knee, knowing his friend would feel the swell of his budding erection. "I might be keeping you awake."

Justin hugged Lance tight. "No, don't go," he said. "I was just getting comfortable."

Lance smiled at him, then leaned his head down over Justin's. Justin's curls were rough against his cheek. He hummed softly, his hand rubbing Justin's back, his gaze on the others at the front of the bus. Soon he felt Justin's breath even out beneath him, his hand still, resting on Lance's chest. Lance's eyes began to burn and he closed them, intending to just wait a few more minutes until he was sure Justin was asleep before getting out of the bed and returning to the others. Maybe Justin was right -- maybe he just needed some rest.

With his friend on his mind, Lance fell asleep, too. Later, when the bus came to a rest station off the highway, Joey called back, "Pit stop!" but no one answered. As Chris and JC rushed off the bus to stretch their legs, Joey made his way back to the bunks. He found Lance stretched out on the bed, one arm beneath Justin, his cheek against the top of Justin's head. Justin curled against Lance, one arm and leg thrown over Lance's body, holding him close. They were both sound asleep.

Joey looked at them thoughtfully, debating on waking them, then decided not to. Smoothing down Lance's hair, he smiled before hurrying to catch up with the others. Justin looked as if he was feeling better now.


	17. Rest Stop

The tour bus pulled into the self-serve gas station somewhere off Interstate 95. As the doors of the bus opened, the members of NSYNC clomped down the stairs, eager to stretch their legs after being cooped up inside for the past few hours. On his way out the door, Justin heard Lance ask if he could drive the next stretch. He smiled when the driver just laughed. "Get off the bus, kid," he said amicably. Justin waited for Lance just outside the door.

When Lance stood on the last step, he jumped onto Justin's back. His arms laced around Justin's neck, and his legs hitched up over Justin's hips. Justin reached back and grabbed Lance's thighs, holding him up. Lance laughed in his ear. "That guy's tough," he said. "Won't let me drive the bus."

"Can't imagine why not," Justin replied. He staggered under Lance's weight and then let go of Lance's legs. Lance set his feet back on the ground and stepped around to Justin's side, one arm draped over his friend's shoulders. Together they joined the others inside the small store beyond the gas pumps.

Chris and Joey were combing the junk food aisles. "No Twinkies, man," Joey cried as they entered the store. "Where the hell are we that they don't sell Twinkies?"

JC stood at the magazine rack, leafing through a local newspaper. Justin looked out at the bus -- the driver hadn't even activated the gas pump yet. They had a few minutes to spare, and suddenly he wanted to get Lance alone. He knew just the place. Walking over to the register, he smiled at the girl behind the counter. "You have a restroom here?" he asked.

She cracked her gum and nodded. Handing him a rusty key, she said, "Around the side. Bring the key back when you're done."

 _Like I'm going to keep it_ , Justin thought wryly, heading for the door. On his way out he caught Lance's eye. "Where you going?" Lance asked.

"Bathroom," Justin said, and smiled. With a nod outside, he motioned for Lance to follow.

Lance didn't need any prompting -- his thoughts must have been on the same track as Justin's. He hurried outside after his friend. As they walked around the corner of the store, he said, "You're crazy."

Justin turned and saw the half-smile on Lance's face. "No I'm not," he replied. "Just horny as hell. I can't get you alone in that damn bus so I'm going to take what I can."

"You're so bad," Lance said, grinning, as Justin slipped the key into the lock and turned the knob.

Inside the restroom was small and dirty, lit by one naked bulb. A urinal and stall crouched along one wall, and a foggy mirror above a small sink reflected the room back to them. Justin felt the door lock as he pushed it closed and said, "This ain't my idea of a good date, but any port in a storm, eh?"

Lance laughed nervously, and then Justin was pressing him against the sink, running his hands under Lance's shirt and over his chest. He caressed his nipples, teasing them erect, while his lips found Lance's mouth, his tongue slipping easily inside. Lance moaned as Justin leaned into him, his suddenly hard cock rubbing insistently against Lance's crotch. Justin wrapped his arms around Lance, his hands cool against Lance's warm back, and their kiss deepened. Lance hugged Justin close and thrust forward with his hips, bumping their erections together through their jeans.

Justin pulled back slightly and ran his open lips across Lance's cheek, his breath hot against the smooth skin. He closed his eyes as Lance's hands slipped lower, cupping his butt and pulling him close. He felt his erection stiffen, and he moaned as Lance rubbed his own against it. "I can't stand this," he whispered into Lance's ear. "I want you so bad."

Lance kissed Justin's jaw. "What about the others?" he asked playfully.

"I don't want them," Justin replied. "Just you." He looked at Lance hungrily. He wanted to taste every part of Lance's body. He wanted to hold him close, to feel him naked beside him, to make love to him forever. He leaned forward and they kissed again, tongues exploring each other’s' mouths, small moans lost as their lips met.

Justin let his hands find the waistband of Lance's jeans. He ran a finger down the length of the zipper, feeling the bulge of Lance's erection through the denim. When he poked gently, Lance leaned back and groaned, eyes closed. Justin smiled and kissed Lance's exposed neck, and pressed again, harder. He felt the outline of his penis straining against his hand, the tip swollen beneath his fingers. Rubbing up and down along the zipper, he licked the hollow of Lance's throat as Lance bit his lip, trying to keep his moans of pleasure quiet in the small room.

Tugging at the zipper, Justin pulled it down slowly. Lance's hands squeezed his buttocks as the zipper opened, his stiffening member hidden behind white briefs. Running his hand over the thinner material, he felt Lance's hard erection thrust against his hand. He reached up under the still buttoned jeans, his hand brushing the sensitive tip of Lance's cock as he slipped beneath the waistband of the underwear. Lance bent his head down over Justin's, his hands slipping into Justin's back pockets, his breath coming in short gasps in Justin's ears. Justin cupped his hands over the tip of Lance's penis, already damp, and Lance thrust into his palm as Justin licked along his neck.

Someone knocked on the door. "Shit," Justin swore softly against Lance's skin.

Lance held him tighter. "Let them wait," he moaned. "Just a few more minutes --"

The knock came again, louder. "Come on, you two!" Chris called through the door. "If you don't hurry up, we're gonna leave you here."

"Good idea," Lance whispered, but Justin gave his cock one last squeeze before disentangling himself from his jeans. He kissed Lance's mouth again as he pulled up the zipper.

"Next time," he promised, licking Lance's lips.

Lance pouted. "You're such a tease," he complained. "Now I'm going to have to sit through a hard-on for the next few miles."

Smiling, Justin ran a hand down Lance's zipper and said, "You're not the only one."

"You guys coming or not?" Chris called again. "You can be replaced, you know. How hard can it be to find two guys who can sing and look good? Come _on_!"

Lance rolled his eyes. "Right now I'm about to let them find someone new." He let go of Justin as they kissed one last time. With a wistful look in his eyes, he studied Justin's face. Softly he said, "What I wouldn't give to finish this."

Justin smiled. As the door shook under a barrage of pounding fists, he promised, "Next time. If they even let us go to the bathroom anymore."


	18. Cleaning Up

When the tour passed through Florida, Justin invited everyone over to his house. His mother didn't mind -- she had plenty of room, and she was happy to have her son back home, if only for a few days. "While you're here, you can clean out that closet in your old room," she had said the first night they were there, the five boys sitting in front of the television eating pizza she had ordered. "Some of that stuff can go into the attic, you know, but I want it out of there. I need that closet."

Justin groaned but the next day began digging through the boxes stacked in his closet, behind clothes that didn't fit him any longer. "All those can go to the Salvation Army," his mom called from the doorway. "Where are your friends? They can help out."

From behind her, Lance said, "I'll help him, Mrs. Timberlake."

She smiled at Lance as he entered the room. "What about the others? JC, Chris, Joey? They can help, too."

Lance met Justin's eyes and smiled. "They ditched us," he said. "Scared of a little hard work."

"Okay, Mom," Justin said, stepping around Lance to push her from the room. "We'll take care of it. Just leave it to me."

"Justin --" she started, but he closed the door and locked it before turning back to Lance, a sparkle in his eyes that was hard to hide. From the hallway his mother called, "Remember, I want it cleaned out. Don't just pile the stuff up somewhere else!"

"Yes, Mom," Justin called, brushing against Lance as he headed back for the closet. "Jeez, you'd think I didn't know how to clean or something."

Lance smiled as he watched Justin bend over and pull out a large box from the back of the closet. Squatting down, Justin opened the box and began to riffle through its contents -- stuffed animals and school newspapers and old photographs. "You gonna help me or just stand there drooling all day?" he called over his shoulder.

"I'm not drooling," Lance said, coming to stand beside Justin. He looked down at Justin's curls, his tight black T-shirt that pulled against his biceps, the way his shoulder blades flexed beneath the material, and he hoped he wasn't drooling.

Justin grinned up at him. Before he could reply, Lance saw a small, well-loved teddy bear shoved in the bottom of the box. Reaching for it, he pulled it out. The bear was old, the fur worn away in places, one eye missing and one ear torn and sewn and torn again. "Who's this?" Lance asked, studying the bear.

"Give me that," Justin said quickly, a blush rising to his cheeks.

But Lance held the bear out of reach. "This is so cute!" he giggled.

Justin wrapped his arms around Lance's knees and pulled him down to the ground. "Give me it," he said again, crawling over Lance's body as Lance held the bear over his head. "Lance --" he warned.

When Justin's face was just inches above his, Lance leaned up and kissed him quickly. "I'm only playing," he said. Justin's hand slipped over his, the bear held tight between them.

Justin looked down at Lance, fear and embarrassment in his eyes. "You're not making fun of me?" he asked in a small voice.

Lance shook his head. "Jesus, Justin, a bear is nothing. You didn't have a sister like mine. I probably still have Barbies in my closet."

Justin laughed and tossed the bear away as his fingers entwined with Lance's. Lance took Justin's other hand in his and held them both above his head. With Justin stretched out above him, Lance kissed the curve of Justin's jaw. When Justin tried to kiss Lance's lips, Lance twisted away. Justin pouted and tried again, but Lance turned away again. "Lance," Justin whined.

"Now who's the tease?" Lance asked, smiling.

"Why, you little --!" Justin pulled his hands free from Lance's and sat up, straddling Lance's hips. Lance moaned as Justin's butt ground into his cock, already stiffening under Justin's weight. With both hands he pinched Lance's nipples through his shirt.

"Hey!" Lance cried, laughing, as he tried to shield his chest with his arms. Justin began to tug up the bottom of Lance's shirt. Pushing it down again, Lance tried to sit up but Justin held him down.

Lifting his shirt again, Justin ran his fingers across Lance's belly, tickling him. Lance laughed and then his shirt slid up over his head, tangling his arms above him, blinding him. Only his mouth and nose were free beneath the neck of the shirt. He felt Justin's lips brush against his as Justin wriggled his hips into Lance's. Lance moaned, his mouth opening as Justin's tongue slipped inside.

And then the shirt was completely off, tossed aside, and Lance brought his hands up to cup Justin's face close, pulling him into a deeper kiss. Justin tugged off his own shirt, breaking away just long enough to pull it over his head, and then he leaned against Lance again, their erect nipples rubbing against each other, their hands roaming bare skin.

Scooting back to sit on Lance's legs, Justin unbuttoned Lance's jeans, pulling the zipper down over his hard erection. Taking a belt loop in each hand, Justin began to pull down Lance's pants. He stood up to pull them completely off, and then he slipped out of his own jeans, as well. Lance lay on the floor, looking up at him, a smile on his lips. "Get back down here," Lance said.

Grinning, Justin pulled off his boxer shorts. Lance's eyes widened at Justin's thick cock, standing up from a patch of curly hair, the shaft swollen and red. Unconsciously, Lance licked his lips. Then Justin leaned down and slipped his hands beneath the waistband of Lance's briefs. "Justin, wait," Lance said, suddenly unsure.

But Justin smiled, his eyes full of emotion, full of love. "Don't be afraid," he said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Justin --" Lance started again, placing a hand over Justin's to stop him.

Justin sighed patiently. "I just want to lay beside you, that's it. I want to hold you, nothing between us. We don't have to do anything else." Seeing Lance's unease, he said, "I promise."

Lance nodded and let Justin pull off his briefs. Despite his worries, his own erection was already throbbing and hard. Justin wrapped a hand around it as he laid down next to Lance, his own cock hot against Lance's thigh. Running his other hand through Lance's hair, Justin squeezed his friend's erection gently and whispered, "See? This isn't so bad, is it?"

Lance shook his head and sighed, his wariness slipping away. He pulled Justin closer and kissed him. Justin's cock brushed against his as he rolled on top of Lance, kissing his lips, his chin, his neck. Lance moaned as Justin thrust his hips against Lance's, their stiff erections rubbing each other. Justin's tongue danced over Lance's throat, licked one nipple, then the next, traced along the muscles of his stomach, until Justin's lips kissed along his lower belly. Lance sat up suddenly, reaching for Justin.

Justin's hand gripped Lance's cock, holding it up, as his lips closed over the swollen tip. Lance leaned back on his elbows as Justin kneeled between his legs, his tongue tasting Lance's wet member. "Justin," Lance managed between ragged breaths as Justin licked down the length of his shaft. Justin's other hand curled around his own erection, squeezing and tugging and kneading. Lance felt the wetness of Justin's mouth drip down his hard cock; he felt the pressure of teeth beneath lips, rubbing against him gently. Justin's tongue ran beneath the tip of his penis as he pushed deeper into the Justin's warm mouth, Justin's hand running up and down his shaft, squeezing in rhythm with Lance's thrusts.

When Lance felt himself on the edge of an orgasm, he pulled back from Justin just in time. A thin spray erupted from him as he fell back to the floor, pleasure tearing through his body. And then Justin was above him, droplets of white liquid clinging to his eyebrows, his eyelashes, his curls. Lance giggled. "You're a mess," he whispered, his voice shaky.

Justin brought his hand up and ran it through Lance's hair, leaving behind a wet trail of his own sticky cum. "You too," he said, kissing his lips.

"And your mother wanted this place clean," Lance reminded him as he hugged Justin close.

Justin nuzzled against Lance. "In a few minutes," he said, wrapping his arms around his friend, their legs entangled together.


	19. Another Long Night Ahead

There was a mix-up at the hotel, and the only room available was the President's Suite. Two king-sized beds, a plush leather sofa and twin recliners, a claw-foot bathtub and glass-encased shower stall, a wet bar and full kitchen -- all in one elegant room. When JC unlocked the door, the guys stood there taking in the opulence around them, awed, until Joey called, "Dibs on the couch!"

"What?" Chris asked, looking around. He saw the two enormous beds and the one sofa, and said, "That's not fair."

"I wanted the couch," JC said, tossing his bags onto the floor.

Lance looked at the beds, side by side against one wall, separated by two heavy oaken nightstands. Then he glanced at Justin, only to find Justin staring back with the hint of a smile on his face. Running a hand through his hair nervously, he walked over to one of the beds and dropped his duffle bag on it. "This one's mine," he said, hoping his voice didn't betray the excitement suddenly coursing through his body at Justin's brief glance.

Chris flopped on the other bed. "Mine," he declared, letting his dog Busta loose to sniff the covers.

Nonchalantly Justin sat on the edge of Lance's bed, but he didn't say anything. Joey looked at him. "You want to fight for the couch?" he asked.

Justin shook his head, his curls bouncing slightly. "Nah, I'll sleep here. It's too late to argue."

It was true. They had rolled into town well behind schedule, and had to be up early in the morning to rehearse for their show tomorrow night. Joey sighed and studied JC for a minute before replying, "You take the couch. Leather sticks to me anyway." Turning his attention to Chris, he warned, "But that dog ain't sleeping with us. And I'm kicking you out if you start to snore."

"I don't snore!" Chris cried, indignant.

Later, after they turned off the lights, Justin crawled under the covers, pressing his body against Lance's warm back. The sounds of gentle breathing were loud in the room, and occasionally the squeal of skin on leather as JC rolled over on the couch punctuated the night. Lance felt Justin's arms wrap around his waist, his hands flat on Lance's lower stomach. With his chest against Lance's back, Justin's chin rested on Lance's shoulder, and each breath fanned Lance's ear until he thought he would scream with lust and frustration. With the others just a few feet away, he didn't dare do anything. So he bit his lip as Justin's breathing slowed, and he hoped he would be able to sleep.

Shifting slightly, Justin brushed his hand against Lance's crotch. Lance held his breath as Justin's hand moved back across his underwear, surprised to find a thick erection beneath the thin fabric. And then Justin's lips kissed his shoulder, warm and wet in the darkness, and his hand squeezed Lance's cock slowly. "You little devil," Justin whispered in his ear.

"Shh," Lance whispered back, but he rolled onto his back and slipped one arm around Justin's shoulders. Justin leaned against him, massaging his erection as he thrust his hips against Lance's thigh, his own erection already growing beneath his boxers. Placing his mouth against Justin's ear, Lance spoke so low, he didn't even hear his own words. "We can't do this."

But Justin ignored him. His lips trailed kisses along Lance's chest, beneath his arm, on the soft underside of his bicep. Lance closed his eyes, the sensation of Justin's warm tongue on his skin maddening. With one hand he traced small circles into Justin's back; the other hand ran along Justin's arm, rubbing gently. He leaned down and kissed Justin's curls. When Justin squeezed his throbbing cock, Lance moaned into Justin's ear.

In the other bed, someone shifted. Justin's lips found Lance's and covered them in the darkness, stifling the soft sounds Lance made. His hand moved away from Lance's cock, tracing over Lance's stomach until it came to rest across his chest. Nuzzling close, Justin lay back on Lance's shoulder and sighed.

Across the way, Joey growled, "That better be your dog licking me."

Lance curled into Justin's embrace and smiled against Justin's shoulder. Their erections brushed against each other, flaring to life again, and Lance sighed as Justin hugged him close. It was going to be a long night.


	20. Never Meant This Pain, Part 1

Joey was drunk. They had attended an awards show -- he couldn't remember which one -- and there must have been a little more alcohol in his drinks than he thought because by the time they left he was weaving through the crowd, leaning heavily on the others, and they wouldn't let him drive back to the hotel. As they rode up the elevator, Joey watched the others with hooded eyes, his mind still buzzing. JC leaned against the wall of the elevator, his eyes closed, his tux somehow still fresh and crisp at the end of the night. Chris stood near Joey, watching the numbers change above the doors as the elevator climbed to their floor. Lance leaned against the back of the elevator, Justin standing against him, talking quietly.

Suddenly Joey felt jealous. The emotion bubbled up instantly, and he didn't know where it came from. But the thought of spending a night alone in his bed while Lance and Justin shared theirs made his heart ache. He wanted someone to look at him the same way Lance looked at Justin, his eyes bright and shiny, his mouth curved into a coy smile. When the elevator ground to a halt, Joey staggered through the doors and stumbled out into the hall.

Strong hands caught him before he fell. "Easy, there," someone said, and then Lance was standing beside him, one arm around Joey's waist, supporting him.

"Sorry," Joey mumbled. He was very tired; his body was too heavy to move. Behind him the others were saying goodnight but they sounded distant, far away. Joey leaned against Lance. "I've got to get some sleep," he said.

"Let me help you," Lance said, and Joey let himself be led to his room. With awkward fingers he fumbled the key into the lock, but then Lance steadied his hand and turned the key. The door opened onto a dark room and sadness washed over Joey again. _Alone_ , he thought, _in a strange bed, a strange city._ He sighed. "You okay, man?" Lance asked, helping Joey to the bed.

Joey could see Lance in the light from the doorway, and he sat on the edge of the bed while Lance turned on a lamp. The light cast thin shadows around the room. Joey watched the way Lance's tux pulled across his back as he bent to help Joey remove his shoes. He watched the light play off of Lance's blonde, spiky hair, and tentatively he reached out and ran his hand just above the spikes. Lance looked up at his touch. Joey ran his hand across again, pressing the spikes down. Something in Joey's eyes made Lance pull away.

"You have pretty eyes," Joey said, his voice thick. It was the truth -­suddenly he noticed how light Lance's eyes were, how the long eyelashes curled like a girl's.

Lance turned his attention back to Joey's shoes. Untying first one, then the other, he pulled the shoes off and tossed them aside. "You're drunk," he said.

Joey ran a finger down Lance's sleeve. "Am I?" he asked softly. He liked the way Lance jumped at his touch.

Standing up, Lance stepped back from him, a wary look in his eyes. "Get some sleep, Joey," he said.

Joey stood up, swaying slightly. Advancing towards Lance, he smiled devilishly and whispered, "You could stay here with me, you know."

"I can't," Lance said, backing up. He bumped against the dresser and reached back to steady himself. "You don't really want me, Joey. You're drunk."

"And alone," Joey said. "And right now the thought of holding you in my arms is intoxicating."

Lance sighed. "Joey --" he began, and then Joey stepped close enough to wrap his arms around Lance. Lance brought his arms up between them and pushed against Joey's chest, but Joey was insistent. He told himself it wasn't fear he saw in Lance's eyes but excitement, hunger, mirroring his own feelings. "Joey --" Lance said again, his voice wavering. "No --"

Joey bent his head against Lance's cheek, brushing his trimmed beard along Lance's skin. "What is it about you?" he whispered, his breath hot and coppery. "What is it that Justin loves so much? Can you show me? Can you --"

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, spinning him away from Lance. Joey staggered back and fell against the wall, a stunned expression on his face. And then Justin stepped into his line of vision, his face pale, his eyes livid with rage. Between tight lips Justin snarled, "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Through his disheveled hair, Joey stared at Justin, confused. Where had Lance gone? One moment Joey held him in his arms -- he had felt a familiar stirring in his groin and the desire to kiss Lance had been overwhelming. Then the next moment here he was on the ground, Justin standing over him, his fists clenched at his sides, his face closed and angry. "Justin?" Joey whispered. Suddenly his head began to pound.

From behind Justin, Joey heard Lance's voice. "Justin, he's drunk." He focused on the sound, and saw Lance standing with his arms wrapped tightly around his body, as if comforting himself.

A muscle twitched in Justin's jaw. "You better be," he warned, his voice hurt. "You better be shitfaced drunk. Otherwise I'll hurt you for touching him. I'll hurt you so bad we'll have to cancel the rest of our tour for you to recover."

Joey ran a shaky hand through his hair, brushing it back from his face. "I'm drunk," he admitted, his voice low. "I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry --" Looking past Justin, he repeated, "I'm sorry."

He stared at the floor as Justin took Lance's arm in one hand and led him from the room. He heard the door slam shut as they left, and he suddenly felt more alone than he ever believed possible. He didn't even think he could make it to the bed now. He slumped against the wall and wondered how he was ever going to make it to the bed.


	21. Never Meant This Pain, Part 2

The photographer clicked off another roll of film as she circled the members of NSYNC. "Say cheese!" The boys smiled as the film rolled.

"My teeth are getting cold," Chris whispered through his smile.

The photographer reloaded her camera. "No more poses, then," she said. "Give me a little spontaneity, something unrehearsed."

Lance groaned. How could they be spontaneous now, after sitting under these lights for the past hour? The thought of goofing off in front of the camera was tiring, and a headache began to tug behind his eyes.

But Joey threw his arm around Lance's shoulder and began mugging for the camera, and Lance forced a grin on his face. From the corner of his eye he caught Justin glaring at him, and Lance ducked out of Joey's grip. Then Joey jumped on JC's back and Chris knocked both of them down, collapsing on top of them in a fit of laughter. The camera whirled, the photographer eating up their performance.

Lance felt Justin's hand on his waist and he turned slightly. Justin was watching the others wrestle on the floor. Lance wondered if he should say something, anything -- for the past few days Justin had been distant, angry at Joey for coming onto Lance when drunk. Lance had played the whole thing off -- this was Joey, he reasoned, the world's biggest flirt. The small touches and playful hugs meant nothing to him, or so Lance wanted to believe. And he'd probably already forgotten all about the other night. But Justin still simmered -- every time Joey spoke to him, Justin answered in short, clipped tones, and once or twice Justin had ignored Joey completely. Lance just hoped Justin would get over it. Joey had been drunk, Lance argued, but Justin didn't want to hear it.

Studying Justin's profile, Lance whispered, "I'm just not in the mood for this."

Justin smiled but didn't say anything. "Come on, you two," the photographer called. "Be yourselves. Join in the fun."

From beyond the lights, the producer clapped his hands, signaling an end to the shoot. "Wonderful, wonderful," he gushed, pointing to the dressing rooms at the back of the studio. "People, let's get ready for Westlife. Step to it!"

With his hand still around Lance's waist, Justin led the way to the dressing rooms. Looking back, Lance noticed that the other three were just picking themselves up off the floor. Joey flirted with the photographer while Chris held JC in a headlock and mussed his short hair with one hand. Lance glanced at Justin and took a deep breath. "You mad?" he asked, dreading the answer.

But Justin looked at him quickly, confusion in his face. "Why would I be mad?" he asked.

Lance shrugged. "The way you looked at me back there --"

"That was for Joey," Justin said bitterly. "Not you."

"You really should ease up on him," Lance said.

Justin shook his head. "Lance, he's all over you. I don't know how you'd feel if the tables were turned, but every time I see him touch you I want to punch him."

Lance thought about it. How _would_ he feel? He pictured Joey holding Justin in his arms but just couldn't do it. Justin was too headstrong, too outspoken. If Joey tried to touch him in that way, he felt sure that Justin would punch him anyway. But he understood what Justin was saying -­the thought of Justin with anyone but him was just something he couldn't bear. "I'd be upset," he admitted, "but I don't think Joey's like that."

"Then you're blind," Justin said. "He's liked you since day one. And now that you and me are hooking up, he's sorry he missed his chance."

Lance turned as the others raced past them, banging through the dressing room door and laughing like idiots. "You're wrong," he said. "Joey's just a flirt. He means nothing by it. If I came to him one night, he'd scream in terror."

Justin glanced at him. "I seriously doubt that," he replied. "And I don't suggest trying it just to prove me wrong, either."

Ahead, Joey held the door open for them. He smiled at Justin as he entered the dressing room, Lance right behind him. Lance figured Justin didn't smile back, because then Joey looked at him and rolled his eyes dramatically. When Lance was inside, Joey let the door close and casually folded his arms over Lance's shoulder. "What's up with him?" he asked, his face close to Lance's. His breath tickled Lance's ear.

Lance shrugged and walked out from under Joey's arms. "I don't know," he muttered as he gathered up his stuff from the dressing room table. In the mirror he saw Joey watching him, a thoughtful expression on his face. _Don't,_ he prayed, though he didn't know quite what he didn't want Joey to do. Something in his stance told Lance that Joey wanted to approach him, talk to him, and he didn't want anything to happen, not here, not where others could see. With Justin's current mood, anything could happen.

But before Joey could come any closer, Justin stepped between them, his lips set tight. He glared at Joey in the mirror as he scooped up his clothes from the table, bumping his hip against Lance, reaching past him for his comb, touching him at every opportunity. _Mine,_ those little touches said. _Hands off._

"I'm going to the car," Chris called, and JC left with him. When Justin had zipped up his bag, he looked at Lance with a question in his eyes. _Ready?_

Lance nodded and slipped his bag over one shoulder. When he turned around, Joey was there, standing right behind him. "Joey --" Lance started.

Justin placed a hand on Joey's chest. "What's your problem, man?"

Joey looked at Lance, a pain in his eyes that made Lance want to cry. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry," he said softly.

"About what?" Lance said, hoping to alleviate the tension in the room.

"About ..." Joey floundered, searching for the words. Lance wanted to help him out, to tell him that there was nothing to be sorry for, but the anger in Justin's eyes kept him silent. "About everything," Joey whispered, dropping his gaze. "Justin, Lance, I'm sorry. There's nothing else I can say."

Lance reached out and took Justin's hand off of Joey's chest. "It's okay, man," he said, "really. No harm done. No hard feelings. Right?" He smiled at Joey, then at Justin, but neither of them looked convinced. "We're still friends here, right?"

"Yeah," Joey said, his voice low.

Justin shrugged and looked away. "Yeah, I guess," he said.

But it was a start. Lance smiled brightly and said, "Well, I guess the others are waiting. Let's get going, shall we?" He pushed Justin towards the door and smiled at Joey. Joey smiled back, a faint, sad smile, and reached out to trail a finger down Lance's shoulder as they passed.

Lance glanced back sharply at the touch, but Joey was already busying himself with packing up. As they left the dressing room, Joey looked up and met Lance's eyes in the mirror. He smiled that slow, sad smile again before looking away.


	22. Never Meant This Pain, Part 3

The door to Justin's hotel room stood slightly ajar. Lance pushed it open slowly and stepped inside. "Justin?" he called softly. Lance hadn't seen Justin for the past hour, ever since they returned from taping a live morning show. Looking around the room, he saw Justin sleeping, rolled over on the bed so his back faced Lance. He smiled and shut the door quietly behind him. In three steps he crossed the room and crawled onto the bed behind Justin.

Leaning close to Justin's ear, Lance whispered his friend's name. He saw Justin's eyelashes flutter slightly, and Justin sighed. Bending down closer, Lance licked Justin's ear, his tongue tracing along the warm skin. Lance reached over and placed one hand on the bed in front of Justin, his other hand behind his back to steady himself as he straddled above his sleeping friend. He sucked on Justin's ear gently, his breath ruffling Justin's curls.

Justin moaned and rolled over on his back, his eyes still closed but his hands reaching out to brush Lance's knee. Lance released Justin's ear to trail along his cheekbone, his tongue licking its way to Justin's mouth. Brushing his lips against Justin's, he whispered his name again.

Then he kissed Justin, his lips pressing gently against Justin's, his tongue easily slipping inside to taste the dark sweetness of Justin's mouth. Justin brought his hands up, running them along Lance's chest until he cradled Lance's face in both hands.

Lance pulled back and smiled down at Justin. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he whispered.

Justin looked up at him with those baby blue eyes and returned his smile. "I'm up, I'm up," he said, running one leg between Lance's. He pressed his crotch against Lance's thigh, and Lance felt Justin's budding erection rub against him through their jeans. Justin wrapped his arms around Lance's neck and pulled him in for another kiss.

Smiling wickedly, Lance started to sit up. "Well, now that you're awake, we can get going," he said. "We've got to be at the theater in thirty minutes."

Justin's smile faded. "We've still got some time," he pouted. He raised his knee to brush Lance's crotch, and smiled when he felt Lance's stiffening cock. "You don't _really_ want to stop now, do you?"

The look on Justin's face was so infuriating. Without answering, Lance ran his hands beneath Justin's shoulders, pulling himself down on top of his friend. He thrust his hips against Justin's, their erections rubbing together, and his mouth found Justin's, covering it with wet kisses. His tongue delved between Justin's lips and he moaned into Justin's mouth.

He leaned heavily against Justin, pressing him into the bed.

When they broke apart, Justin was breathless. "Jesus, Lance," he gasped, grinning. He wiggled his hips against Lance. "I don't know what's gotten into you but I like it."

Lance grinned back. "I just wanted you to know how I feel," he said. "After all that's happened lately, I just wanted to show you ..." He let the sentence trail off as he kissed Justin again. "So there's no doubt in your mind ..." He kissed Justin's chin, his neck, his ear. "How I feel about you ..." He sucked at the hollow of Justin's throat, nibbled on his shoulder, licked his tongue across his collarbone. Justin pulled him close and moaned as Lance kissed his body and moved against him slowly.

"I didn't doubt you," Justin whispered, rubbing his cock against Lance. "I just don't trust Joey anymore. It's not you."

Lance thrust against Justin and tried to forget the memory of Joey holding him close, his face inches from Lance's. Lance kissed Justin again, pushing Joey from his mind.

The phone rang. Lance reached over and snagged the receiver. "Hello?" he asked. Beneath him Justin continued to move, each thrust sending chills of pleasure through Lance's body. An orgasm was not far off, and he hoped he could hang up the phone before he came.

On the other end of the line a woman asked, "Lance? How are you, honey?"

Lance sat up quickly, rolling off of Justin. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Harless!" he cried, looking at Justin with wide eyes. Of all the people to call at this moment! Justin sat up and ran a hand down Lance's chest, smiling. To Justin's mother, Lance asked, "How are you doing today?"

"Oh fine, dear. I saw you boys on _Later Today_ this morning. You looked very thin. Are you eating enough?"

Lance laughed and brushed Justin's hand away as it tugged on his nipple. Undaunted, Justin grabbed the front of Lance's shirt and pulled him down over him again. "I'm eating just fine," he said, trying to twist out of Justin's grasp, but Justin wrapped his arms around him and held him tight. "I'm just a little tired, is all."

"Well, get some sleep," Mrs. Harless said. "Make sure they don't work you too hard. Is Justin there?"

"Right here," Lance said, handing the phone to Justin. As Justin took it from him, Lance leaned his head on Justin's chest, listening to his voice echo deep within his body.

"Hey, Mom," Justin said, running a hand through Lance's hair. "What's up?"

Lance reached over and hugged Justin tight. Then he let his hand stray to Justin's crotch, and he cupped Justin's cock through his pants. Justin gasped and then said quickly, "No, Mom, nothing's wrong. It's just that I can't talk for long. I just realized we have to get going soon."

Lance began to squeeze Justin's erection, hard and thick under his hand. Justin grabbed a handful of Lance's hair and pulled gently. "Yes, Mom," he was saying, though Lance wondered if he was paying any attention to the conversation.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door. Lance rolled away from Justin as the door opened -- _should've locked that,_ he thought as Joey walked in. He took one look at Lance, lying next to Justin, and smiled, his gaze sweeping over Lance's body. Lance sat up. "Hey," he said, hoping Joey hadn't noticed the bulge in his jeans.

"Hey," Joey replied. "Your hair's a mess. Aren't you guys coming with us to the theater?"

Lance nodded. Pointing to Justin, he said, "He's on the phone with his mom. We'll be ready to go in a minute."

Joey glanced at Justin before looking back at Lance. He stared at him for a long moment, until Lance felt uncomfortable. Justin reached up and ran a hand down Lance's spine. Into the phone he said, "I'll have to call you back, Mom. How about later tonight?"

As Justin hung up the phone, Joey nodded at Lance and left without saying anything else. "Damn him," Justin said softly.

"Oh, Justin," Lance said. "You're seeing things that aren't there."

Justin wrapped his arms around Lance, setting his head on Lance's shoulder. "I don't think so," he whispered against Lance's neck. Then he squeezed him tightly and stood up to get ready to go.


	23. Never Meant This Pain, Part 4

Lance felt soft, warm lips press against his. _What a lovely way to wake up,_ he thought, leaning into the kiss. He raised one hand to touch a cool cheek. He trailed his hand along smooth skin until he brushed against the beginnings of a rough beard ...

Lance's eyes flew open. Joey leaned over him, his eyes closed, his lips insistent against Lance's. Pulling back, Lance scooted to the far edge of the bunk and in a breathless voice asked, "Joey?"

Joey smiled. "Hey, beautiful," he said. "Time to wake up."

Lance placed a hand over his chest, where his heart hammered so hard he was sure Joey could hear it. Unconsciously he licked his lips, tasting the spicy sweetness of Joey's lips on his own, and he ran a hand through his hair. "Jesus," he breathed.

Running a finger down Lance's leg, Joey asked, "It wasn't that bad, was it?" Through the denim of Lance's jeans, Joey's touch burned.

Lance gasped. Suddenly he couldn't remember how to breathe. He still felt the ghost of Joey's lips on his, and a flame of lust licked across his groin. Joey sat down on the bunk beside him, his fingers tracing the seam in Lance's jeans, and Lance pulled away. Smiling, Joey said, "You didn't answer my question."

But Lance just shook his head, trying to rid himself of the sensations Joey was awakening in him. "Joey," he began, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Joey, we can't -- _I_ can't ..." He trailed off as Joey scooted closer, his hand on Lance's leg.

"Can't what?" Joey asked softly as his hand began to rub along Lance's thigh.

"Joey, stop," Lance pleaded. "It's not right."

Joey ran his fingers over Lance's inner thigh, the touch arousing and warm. "It feels right," he whispered. "What if I told you I wanted you?"

Lance sighed shakily. "It's not that simple," he said. "I'm ..." He took a deep breath, and looked at Joey -- his disheveled hair, his deep brown eyes, his debonair smile ... Quickly he looked away, afraid that the temptation to take Joey up on his offer was one he couldn't refuse.

But Joey squeezed his thigh playfully and leaned his head on Lance's knee. "Promise me something," he said, and reluctantly Lance met his steady gaze. He could lose himself in those compassionate eyes. "Promise that you'll give me a chance one day."

"I can't promise that," Lance whispered. "Joey, please --"

Suddenly they heard footsteps as someone climbed onto the bus. Lance scooted back from Joey, pulling his knees to his chest, as he wedged himself in the corner. Above him the upper bunk leaned close to his head, and he could feel the metal side of the tour bus through his thin T-shirt. Joey looked towards the front of the bus and stood up quickly. Lance noticed the way Joey's sweater pulled against his chest, and suddenly he wanted to cry. He covered his face in both hands and prayed that Joey would just leave.

"What're you doing?" Lance heard Justin ask as he approached the bunk.

"Just waking up sleeping beauty here," Joey replied. Lance looked between his fingers to see Joey edge around Justin as he left the bus.

Justin looked down at Lance, the anger in his face fading to concern when he saw his friend huddled into himself. "Lance?" he asked sharply. "What's wrong?"

Lance just shook his head. Justin sat on the edge of the bed and touched Lance's leg. _Where Joey's hand was,_ Lance thought, choking back a sob. "Lance?" he asked again, his hands reaching for him. "My God, what _is_ it? What did he say to you? What happened?"

Lance ran his hands down his cheeks, pulling his face into a frown, and whispered, "I thought he was you. Jesus, but I thought it was you."

"Me?" Justin asked. "What --"

Lance sighed. "Kissing me. I thought he was you."

"What the fuck?" Justin's face hardened. "That son of a bitch --" He stood up, heading for the front of the bus.

Lance jumped off the bed and caught Justin's arm in his hands. Beneath Justin's shirt, his body hummed with anger. Lance pulled him to a stop. "Justin, wait a minute --"

"Fuck that shit," Justin cried. His voice was loud and echoed throughout the bus. "Who the fuck does he think he is? That bastard!"

Chris ran up the steps onto the bus. "What's going on?" he asked, looking from Justin to Lance.

JC was right behind him. "Keep it down," he said. "Someone might hear you."

"Fuck that," Justin said angrily. Then Joey climbed onto the bus, and Justin leaped at him. "You jackass! What the fuck were you thinking? I'm gonna fucking kill you --"

Lance held Justin back while Chris blocked the aisle. Justin pushed Chris back, trying to get by him, and Chris threw a glance at JC. "Get him out of here," he said, trying to stand his ground as Justin barreled into him.

JC pushed Joey off of the bus. Joey looked at Lance, his eyes sad, and then he was gone. Chris pushed Justin back against Lance. "What's your problem?" he asked softly.

But Justin turned away, too livid with rage to speak. "Lance, what happened?" Chris asked, but Lance just shrugged. In a low voice, Chris said, "You can tell me. I won't say anything, I promise."

Lance sighed. Glancing back at Justin, standing with his back to them, he said, "I can't --"

"Joey fucking kissed him, that's what happened," Justin said bitterly. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"

Chris looked at Lance, incredulous. "He kissed you?" he asked.

"While I was asleep," Lance said, nodding. He pressed a hand over his eyes and sighed. _Just let this all go away,_ he prayed. He was so tired.

Chris bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. "We've got a talk show to do in twenty minutes," he said. "I don't think --"

"I'm not going," Justin said. "If I see him, I'm gonna kick his ass. You better keep him away from me or I'll hurt him. I promise you, I'll hurt him."

Glancing at Justin's back, Chris said, "Let me go talk with Monica." She was their publicist. Maybe she would know what to do. He left the bus.

Lance hugged himself tightly. "Justin, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

And then Justin was there, his arms encircling Lance, pulling him close. He kissed Lance's forehead and rocked him gently. "It's not your fault," he said softly. "I'm sorry this whole thing happened. I should've come to wake you up. I didn't know he'd try something like this."

Lance closed his eyes and inhaled Justin's cologne. In the comfort of Justin's arms, he pushed away the memory of Joey's lips, his hands, his touch. Slipping his arms around Justin's waist, Lance buried his head in Justin's shoulder.

They stood like that for long moments. "I'm going to kill him," Justin said softly, and Lance frowned at the anger still in Justin's voice. And then Justin released him and headed off the bus. Lance hurried to catch up with him.

Outside Chris was talking to Monica, and JC and Joey stood to one side of the parking lot, a few feet from the bus. The look on JC's face made Lance think Joey told him what happened, as well. Joey stood with his arms folded across his chest, and he looked up as Justin and Lance exited the bus. Justin headed straight for Joey.

JC stepped in between them. "Justin --" he began, but Justin pushed him aside. Joey watched him approach, silent.

Then Justin punched Joey in the face. Joey fell to the ground, his hands cupping his nose, a thin trail of blood already seeping through his fingers. Justin fell on top of him, both fists plummeting the older boy, as Lance tried to pull him off. JC managed to get Justin up and Lance held his arms back, but Justin was strong and it took some effort. Lance didn't think he could hold him for long. JC helped Joey to his feet, pulling him away from Justin. "You're dead," Justin snarled. "You're so fucking dead ..."

"Justin," Lance pleaded, struggling to hold him back as his friend strained in his grip.

"Let me go," Justin said, twisting one arm free. Lance managed to get hold of it again, and he pulled Justin back towards the bus.

Joey wiped the blood from his nose. "You dick!" he cried, looking at his fingers, dripping with his own blood. He lunged at Justin. "You fuckhead!"

But JC was there, holding Joey back, and then Chris stepped between them. "Lance, get him back in the bus," Chris ordered, his hand on Justin's chest to hold him off. Lance nodded and dragged Justin away.

"Come on," he whispered in Justin's ear. "Please, just come on."

Chris turned to Joey. "JC, help him get cleaned up. Is his nose broken?"

"I don't think so," JC replied, and then Lance managed to get Justin on the bus. He closed the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the world.

Justin collapsed into the first seat of the bus. He held his head in his hands and took a deep breath. "I'm going to kill that bastard," he whispered.

Lance sat down beside him, wrapping his arms around Justin's shoulders. "It's okay, Justin," he said. "Really. It's over with. You got in one good punch. Isn't that enough?"

But Justin shook his head. "He thinks he can just screw around with whoever he wants. Well, fuck that. He knows we're together. And he still pulls this shit. What the fuck's his problem?"

Lance hugged Justin close. "I don't know," he whispered. He hoped he would forget the taste of Joey's lips, the feel of his hands. Justin leaned into him, running his arms around Lance's waist, and outside the window Lance could see Chris talking with Monica, probably about today's show. He sighed and just prayed the day would end soon.


	24. Never Meant This Pain, Part 5

A few days of sand and surf seemed the perfect way to let off the tension that had built up between the guys during the last week. JC and Chris stepped around the others carefully, afraid of saying anything that might set off another fight. Justin barely managed to be civil to Joey -­when they appeared in public, he kept the others between them and never spoke to him at all. For his part, Joey avoided Justin, though Lance felt his gaze often enough that he realized Justin had been right all along. Joey _did_ like him. And Lance didn't know what to do about it.

So their manager cleared their schedule and sent them to a small, private beach on the Jersey shore, hoping the sun would clear the air between them. They stayed at a large beach house, privately owned, on a two-mile stretch of white sand not open to the public. No one knew they were there. When the tide came in Joey would go down to the water and ride the waves. Chris used an abandoned stretch of boardwalk as a skate ramp, and JC spent hours working on new songs, lounging on the deck. Lance tried to get Justin to come swimming with him, but Justin didn't like the ocean and stayed on the deck with JC. "No sharks up on the deck," he said, smiling.

"No sharks in the water, either," Lance joked. "This is New Jersey, not Florida."

But Justin just shook his head. "And no me in the water, either."

So Lance walked the quarter mile to the water alone, kicking the hot sands of the dunes as the sun beat down on his body, warming him. He wore just a pair of swim trunks, and he wished Justin would come with him one day. The thought of holding Justin close in the ocean, the two of them floating in the water, their bodies pressed tight against each other, the taste of salty water on sun-kissed skin ... Lance almost turned around at the image, the need to hold Justin was so overpowering.

On the beach he saw Joey, trying desperately to get his surfboard into the waves, but New Jersey wasn't California and the surf was low this time of the day. Lance stopped and watched as Joey tossed the board down on the sand, disgusted. He wore a wetsuit that clung to him like a second skin, the arms and legs cut short, the sleek black material glistening in the afternoon sun. Lance watched as Joey bent over, reaching for the board, and the way the wetsuit hugged his back and buttocks make Lance's throat ache.

And then Joey looked up and saw him. "Hey, man!" he called. "The surf sucks today."

Lance willed himself to stop staring and walked down the stretch of shore to where Joey stood. The incoming tide washed over Lance's feet as he stood on the opposite side of Joey's surfboard. He looked at Joey, his hair damp, slicked back, his eyes warm, his mouth turned into a very slight smile. Unconsciously, he sighed. _Lord, give me the strength,_ he prayed, not quite sure what he needed the strength to do, but suddenly he didn't trust himself. When Joey stepped around the board and stood just inches from him, Lance tried not to back away.

"So," Joey said, his voice thick. Lance glanced at him before turning back to the ocean. He felt a cool, damp finger touch his arm and trace around his back until Joey's arm rested around his shoulders, warm and wet and heavy. Lance tried to shrug away, but Joey wouldn't let him. "Look at me, Lance," he whispered.

Lance complied. Suddenly Joey was pressing his body against Lance's, and Lance could feel the hardness of an erection through the thin wetsuit. Lance swallowed hard. "Joey, no," he said, pushing away.

Joey let him go. "Why not?" he asked, and the hurt in his eyes was almost unbearable.

Lance turned away, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Suddenly he was very cold, and the water running around his feet was icy. He wanted to go back to the house. He wanted to hold Justin close and bury his head in Justin's chest. He wanted to forget the look in Joey's eyes right now, and he wanted to forget the fire of Joey's touch against his skin, the way his body ached when he looked at his friend.

But Joey touched his shoulder gently. "Lance?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Please, Lance, tell me."

"Joey, it's not you," Lance replied. He blinked back tears that pricked at his eyes and stared out over the ocean. "Oh God, please believe me, Joey, it's not you. If it wasn't for Justin, there would be nothing stopping me from ... from this ..." He let his voice trail off.

Joey sighed. "So you and Justin are together," he said, not quite asking.

Lance nodded. "I love him," he said simply. "And I don't want to hurt him. I can't."

Joey wrapped his strong arms around Lance's waist and rested his head on Lance's shoulder, his hair ticklish and wet against Lance's warm skin. He felt so _right_ holding onto Lance like that. "I should've told you sooner," Joey whispered. "I meant to but I kept telling myself it was stupid, that you wouldn't want me, that I didn't want you. But then I saw the way you looked at Justin and I wanted you to look at me like that. I wanted to hold you, to touch you, to taste you ..." He sighed. "Lance, I didn't know you two were together. Honest. I thought maybe you were just fooling around. I thought I might still have a chance."

"Joey," Lance said quietly, and then couldn't think of anything else to say. The thought that Joey was watching him all this time, waiting for a chance to talk to him, waiting for _him_ \-- the thought made Lance's heart break. "I don't want to hurt you, either," Lance whispered. "I ... I want things to be the way they were before any of this happened. Is that possible? Can we do that?"

"Justin hates me," Joey said. "I don't blame him -- I'd hate me, too."

But Lance shook his head. "He doesn't hate you. It hurts so much because he doesn't _want_ to hate you. It's easier to trust you, but when you kissed me ..." The memory of Joey's lips against his, spicy and sweet and warm, made Lance close his eyes in frustration. "He doesn't think he can trust you anymore. You need to talk to him."

"He won't listen."

Lance laughed. "Joey, you can make _anyone_ listen to you."

"Anyone but you," Joey said sadly. Lance glanced at him as Joey disentangled himself from Lance and stepped back.

"Joey --" Lance said again, but Joey just shook his head.

"No," he said. "You're right. It's my fault. I should've told you sooner." He looked at Lance with a tortured gaze. "That's one thing I will always regret. That I should've told you sooner."

Lance reached out for Joey, but he bent down to pick up his surfboard. Tucking it under one hand, he started towards the house. Lance watched his retreating back and tried to forget the way he had felt in Joey's arms. Where Joey had touched him, his skin was cool and damp.

At the house Joey dropped his board on the ground and ran up the steps to the porch. Before he could change his mind or lose his courage, he hurried around the side of the house and onto the deck. JC and Justin lay stretched out on lounge chairs, dark sunglasses covering their eyes. Chris sat on the deck playing with his dog Busta. As Joey came up to them, Chris glanced at JC, who pulled off his sunglasses and watched as Joey stopped in front of Justin's chair. His shadow fell over Justin, and in a low voice, JC warned, "Joey --"

Justin looked up at Joey, a scowl already on his face. "We need to talk," Joey said. "Now."

Then he turned and stormed into the house. JC leaned over to Justin. "You don't have to --"

But Justin pushed himself out of the chair and followed Joey wordlessly. Chris cuddled Busta and in a high, childish voice, said, "There's gonna be a fight, Busta. Yes, there is! You better believe it!"

JC tossed one of his sandals at Chris. It missed him by a few inches, and Busta leaped on it, growling furiously. "Shut up so I can hear," JC admonished.

"You can't hear them," Chris replied.

"I can if you shut up." JC crept close to the screen door, Chris right behind him, and they listened to the quiet inside the house.

Joey stopped just inside the den, hoping Justin would follow. When he heard the screen door slam, he sighed, relieved. So Justin wasn't so pissed that he didn't want to hear what Joey had to say. Maybe Lance was right.

But when Justin spoke, his voice was laced with anger. "What do _you_ want?" he asked.

Joey turned around and studied Justin. He had pushed his blue tinted sunglasses up onto his head, smashing down his crown of curls, and he stood with his arms crossed in front of his muscular chest. Everything about him exuded hostility, but Joey could see what Lance would want with this young, sporty, sexy boy. He took a deep breath. "Remember when I asked you about Lance?"

Justin blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected that. Joey waited while Justin thought back to the day they played basketball. Reluctantly, Justin nodded, his features still clenched.

"I asked you what was up between you two," Joey said. "Remember?" When Justin nodded again, Joey asked softly, "Do you remember what you told me?"

Justin closed his eyes. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I told you nothing," he whispered.

Joey nodded. "Nothing," he repeated. He watched the anger fade from Justin's face, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he thought about what Joey had said. In a quiet voice, Joey said, "I've liked Lance ever since I met him. He's so innocent, so down to earth, so different from anyone I've ever known. But I was afraid to admit the way I felt. I didn't want to believe it -- me, Joey, world's biggest flirt. I was afraid to admit that I might be attracted to a guy."

"You can't help who you fall in love with," Justin said just as quietly, but the anger was gone from his voice.

Joey shook his head. "No, you can't. When I asked you about ... about him, I wanted to believe there really _was_ nothing between you two. I wanted to believe I still had a chance. So when you --" His voice broke, and he turned away.

From across the room, Justin said, "Joey, I didn't know ... I thought you were trying to stop us, tell us we were wrong. So I told you it was none of your business."

Joey nodded. "And I believed I still had a chance. I didn't push it, but when I got drunk, I couldn't stop myself. I wish you had told me then. I swear I never wanted to hurt you."

He watched Justin bite his lower lip, torn between wanting to believe him and the pain and anger he had harbored for so long. "Why tell me this now?" Justin asked softly.

"I asked Lance why he kept pushing me away," Joey admitted, his voice bitter. "He told me he loved you. I couldn't say anything to that."

"And you really didn't know?" Justin persisted.

Joey shook his head. "God, Justin, you think I wanted this? You think I wanted us fighting over the same guy? Over Lance?" He turned to Justin and smiled sadly. "I can't promise you I won't look at him. I can't promise you I won't think about him. But I can swear that I won't touch him again, as long as you two are together. I promise you that."

For a long moment Justin studied Joey, taking in his earnest face, his teary eyes. And then he nodded. "That's fair enough. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Joey said, brushing the comment aside. He glossed over his pain with a smile. "Just don't hurt him, okay?"

Justin smiled back. "I won't." Stepping closer, he hugged Joey quickly, and Joey let his arms linger on Justin's waist. _So this is how he feels to Lance,_ Joey thought, closing his eyes for the tight embrace. Just as quickly, they broke away. "No hard feelings, eh?"

"None," Joey said, smiling. With a twinkle in his eyes, he whispered loudly, "Watch this." Then he cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, "I'm gonna kill you, Curly! I swear it!"

Suddenly the screen door banged open. JC fell on the floor as Chris vaulted over him, Lance pushing through. Justin turned and laughed at their friends, falling over themselves trying to get inside. "Didn't your mothers ever tell you eavesdropping is rude?" he said.

JC pushed Chris off of him. "We're just concerned --" he began, but Joey cut him off.

"You're nosy," he said, helping JC to his feet.

Lance came around to stand beside Justin, his eyes searching Justin's face. He glanced between Justin and Joey. "You guys okay now?" he asked.

Justin smiled at him and tweaked his nose playfully. "Fine," he said.

"You're not going to kill each other?" Chris asked.

Joey shook his head. "Not today," he said.

"Woohoo!" Chris whooped, and Lance laughed, relieved. Joey threw an arm around Justin's shoulders and tried not to let the sadness in his heart shine in his eyes.


	25. Knock, Knock

After a long day on the beach, Lance was ready to wash the sand off of him and call it a night. On the deck of the beach house were two outdoor shower stalls -- strong, wooden walls kept prying eyes away, and a small space beneath the door allowed water to run across the concrete flooring into a drain outside the showers. A small bench ran the length of one wall, inside the shower, stocked with shampoo and soap and razors.

Inside the stall, the water was cool and invigorating after a hot day in the sun, and Lance stood beneath the shower head, letting the water pound into his shoulders, hearing the furious roar of it in his ears. He still wore his swim trunks, but he only wanted to get the sand off of them before taking them off. He was so tired of sitting in sand, of sand shifting against his skin when he walked. He ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back, as a sea breeze blew between the wooden planks of the shower wall and tickled his skin. _Everyone should take a shower outside,_ Lance thought, sighing.

Outside the shower, he heard someone approach, their footsteps slapping through the run-off water. Then there was a knock on the shower door. "Let me in," he heard Justin say, his voice muffled through the wood.

Grinning, Lance replied, "I'm in here. Find your own shower."

The door jiggled against its frame as Justin tugged at it. "Come on, Lance," he wheedled. The lock on the inside of the door held fast.

"I'm taking a shower, Justin," Lance said patiently, as if he had to explain. But suddenly the thought of Justin in here with him under the running water hit him, and he placed his hand on the lock, smiling.

"No shit, Sherlock," Justin said. Placing both hands on the top of the door, he stood on his toes and tried to look over. All Lance saw was the top of Justin's curls and his nose, which Lance promptly touched with one wet finger. Justin fell back. He leaned against the door and whispered loudly, "Lance, don't make me beg."

Lance leaned on the other side of the door. Over the sound of the shower he could hear Justin's breath. "You're not begging yet," he said.

"Lance," Justin warned. "I'm going to crawl up in there in a minute." To emphasize his point, he stuck one bare foot under the door.

Stepping playfully on Justin's toes, Lance smiled. The urge to open the door was almost overwhelming -- his shorts clung tightly to the start of a throbbing erection; a few more minutes of this bantering and he'd really have to take off the shorts. "Say please," Lance laughed.

"Pleeeese," Justin asked, drawing the word out. He shook the door again. "I'm going to huff, and puff, and blow this door down if you don't open up."

Lance threw the lock back and pulled the door open slightly. Sticking his head out, he grinned when he saw the frustrated look on Justin's face. "Well, if you're in the mood to blow something, you can come in."

"You are terrible," Justin said, but a smile tugged at his lips and he pushed his way past Lance into the shower. Lance locked the door behind him, and turned to find Justin standing under the shower head, the water flattening his curls and runneling over his bare chest and swim trunks. He was so close -- "There's not much room in here," Justin said, his voice suddenly soft.

"It's not built for two," Lance replied. He blinked water off his eyelashes and stepped around Justin, their hips rubbing each other in the small space. When he reached for a washcloth, Justin caught him around the waist, his hands wet and cool on Lance's warm skin. Lance turned and Justin pressed him back against the wooden wall of the shower, his wet body hard against Lance's. His lips brushed Lance's gently, not quite a kiss, his tongue licking the shower spray from Lance's lips. "You taste like summer," Justin whispered. "Salty and hot and sweet."

Lance ran his hands up over Justin's bare chest, around his muscular shoulders, across his warm back. Leaning closer for more of a kiss, Lance whispered, "Keep talking like that and we might be in here forever."

"The water company would have a fit," Justin replied, kissing along Lance's cheek. His tongue licked the sensitive skin in front of Lance's ear, and Lance pulled Justin close. Their hard nipples brushed each other, and Justin thrust his own erection against Lance's gently as he slipped his hands into Lance's shorts. He cupped Lance's buttocks in his hands, squeezing lightly. Feeling packed sand smeared across Lance's skin, Justin whispered into Lance's ear, "You're grainy."

Lance pulled back slightly. He _was_ grainy, and even though he loved the way Justin felt pressed against him, each thrust of his friend's hips rubbed the sand along his erection and it hurt. "I know," he said, pushing Justin away. "I've got sand everywhere."

A gleam sparkled in Justin's eye. "Then we'll just have to get you cleaned up." In one smooth motion, he managed to pull Lance's shorts down. They fell in a wet pile on the concrete floor, and his erection was red and stiff. Lance thought maybe some of the redness and swelling was from the sand, but he didn't say anything.

And then Justin slipped off his own shorts, too, and they stood naked in the open air, the water cooling on their hot bodies, the breeze licking across their nipples, their erections, arousing them even more. Laughing, Justin picked up both their shorts and tossed them out of the shower. They landed on the concrete flooring with wet smacking sounds.

Justin pulled Lance into the flow of the shower. Lance closed his eyes as the water fell around him, plastering his hair to his head, caressing his body. When Justin leaned past him, he felt his friend's thick cock brush against his hip, and he reached out, wrapping an arm around Justin's waist. He smelled flowers and fruit, and opened his eyes to see Justin with a wet washcloth in one hand, pouring shampoo into it with the other. He smiled at Lance. "Salon Selectives," he said. "So you'll smell yummy."

"That's shampoo," Lance said as Justin rubbed the washcloth between his hands. A thick white lather rose from the depths of the cloth.

"It works as soap," Justin said. "And smells better, too. Now close your eyes."

Sighing, Lance obeyed. Justin moved behind him and began rubbing the soapy washcloth over his shoulders and across his back. Lance leaned into the gentle touch, the soft cloth tracing circles into his skin. Justin was so close, Lance could feel his erection against his hip, and Justin's hands moved around his back and lathered his arms. The water rinsed the lather away as Justin scrubbed the sand from Lance's back, his butt, his legs. Then Justin edged around in front of him, and Lance felt the soapy cloth teasing his nipples, rubbing his stomach, gently enveloping his hard cock and squeezing playfully. He gasped and then sneezed out a noseful of water. "Careful," Justin said, cupping Lance's chin in one hand while he toyed with Lance's erection in the other. He pulled Lance towards him, his lips covering Lance's mouth, his tongue delving inside, as he kneaded Lance's swollen shaft gently.

Lance moaned as Justin released his cock and trailed the washcloth around his hip, pulling Lance so close that their erections rubbed against each other. Lance thrust against Justin and ran his arms around Justin's waist, one hand holding his friend's back while the other slipped between Justin's legs to brush along soft skin. Justin thrust against him, moaning into Lance's mouth, his arms around Lance's neck and hip clutching him tight.

The sound of the door to the beach house opening was faint beneath the running water, but they both heard it clearly. Then Chris called, "Jesus, Lance, are you going to use up all the water?"

Justin smiled against Lance's lips. "Told you," he whispered.

Lance grinned. "I doubt the water company called," he said. Reluctantly he disentangled himself from Justin, kissing him one last time. Then he stepped up on the small bench and peeked over the wooden stall. "Sorry," he called.

Chris looked at him, then at the pool of running water, laced with soapy lather, running out of the shower and down the drain. "We've got no water pressure inside. You can't even flush a toilet when these things are on. Are you almost finished?"

Lance nodded. He felt Justin's arms wrap around his hips until his hands cupped Lance's erection, his head resting against Lance's butt. He _hoped_ they were almost finished. "I just gotta wash my hair and I'll be done."

Chris thought this over. Then he noticed the two pairs of shorts outside of the shower, both wet and now soapy from the run-off. "Have you seen Justin?" he asked.

"Um," Lance stammered, trying to think of something, but then Justin raised one hand beside him, his fingers barely clearing the wall. "Here!"

he called. Lance looked at Chris with a guilty expression on his face.

But Chris just smiled. "Turn the shower off," he said. "Dinner's almost ready." Then he shook his head and went back inside.

Lance climbed down from the bench. "You heard him," he said, rubbing his hands briskly over his body to wash away the rest of the soap. Justin squeezed a handful of shampoo into his hand and worked the cool liquid into Lance's hair, lathering it quickly. As Lance leaned back and washed it out of his hair, Justin kissed his neck, just beneath his chin.

"I think you're all clean now," Justin whispered. "Maybe later we can pick up where we left off."

"After dinner," Lance promised, turning the water off.


	26. Dinnertime

Lance and Justin walked in from the deck, beach towels draped around their waists, their hair wet and sticking up where they quickly rubbed at it with a towel. Inside the beach house they were staying at, Chris sat at the bar between the kitchen and living room. JC sat on the sofa behind Chris, talking on the phone. The smell of spicy tomato sauce filled the air, heating the kitchen and steaming the windows. "What's for dinner?" Lance asked, picking out a piece of lettuce from the salad bowl in front of Chris and sticking it in his mouth.

Chris shrugged. "I'm not cooking," he said.

"Who is?" Justin asked as he passed into the living room, heading for the stairs to change into something more than a towel.

Chris glanced at him. "If you and Lance were outside, and I'm sitting here, and JC is sitting _there_ \--" he pointed to JC "-- then who do you _think_ is cooking?"

"That would be me," Joey said, coming into the kitchen from the pantry, his hands full with two long loaves of fresh bread. He let his gaze linger over Lance's damp, bare chest, the towel around his narrow waist, his disheveled hair. When Lance turned, Joey smiled brightly and asked, "Mosticolli, anyone?"

"What's that?" Lance asked, picking at the salad.

Chris slapped his hand away. "Leave some for the rest of us," he said.

Setting the bread on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, Joey studied the way the thin towel clung to Lance's wet body, outlining his firm buttocks and the back of his thighs. "It's kinda like lasagna," Joey said, watching water from Lance's hair run in tiny rivulets down the plane of his back. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. "Only spicier."

Justin bounced down the steps and into the kitchen, a pair of jean shorts and a baja pullover replacing his towel. As he passed Lance, he slapped his friend's butt and said, "Go get dressed." Joey busied himself with slicing the bread to keep from watching Lance walk away. Then Justin leaned on the counter and picked up the end piece of the bread. Chewing on it thoughtfully, he watched Joey pull the knife through the loaf and asked, "What're we having?"

"Massachusetts," Chris called from the bar.

"Mosticolli," Joey corrected, rolling his eyes. Justin looked up at him and laughed. When he reached for another slice of bread, Joey pointed the knife at him. "What is it with you two? Dinner's not ready yet. Stop eating."

"We worked up an appetite," Justin said, then turned away quickly when he saw sadness flash across Joey's face. He knew they had been in the shower outside together -- he had seen Justin knock on the door from the kitchen window earlier. He thought when he accepted the fact that Justin and Lance were together, then maybe his crush on Lance would fade away, but he was wrong. Just seeing them in the same room together hurt, but he didn't say anything. It wasn't their fault he felt like this.

Fortunately Justin wasn't angry with him anymore, and when he sensed the pain behind Joey's eyes, he changed the subject. "What movie did you get for tonight?" he asked, his voice light.

Since they had come to this beach house, it had been a custom to take turns cooking. Whoever cooked that night chose a movie for them all to watch together after dinner. Joey had been surprised at some of the films they had seen -- everything from old black and white westerns to the strangest things the local Blockbuster had to offer. Today when he went combing the aisles of the video store, he had toyed with the idea of renting a porno, just to see what the others would say, but decided on an old favorite of theirs instead. He didn't think he could sit through a porno with Lance beside him and keep his promise to Justin about not touching him. " _Reservoir Dogs,_ " he said.

"Cool!" Justin cried. "I haven't seen that one yet."

Joey smiled. "That's right, I forgot you were too young to see it when it came out."

Justin punched him playfully in the arm. "Oh yeah, like you saw it in theaters, Mr. Fatone."

"My brother snuck me in," Joey said, finishing up with the bread. Turning to the oven, he asked, "Can you get that bread buttered for me? Just don't eat it all."

"I won't," Justin pouted before sticking another slice in his mouth. Joey opened the oven, dry heat rushing out at him, and reached up for the oven mitts by the sink.

Someone handed them to him. Glancing up, Joey saw Lance standing beside him, wearing shorts and a faded sweatshirt. He smiled as Joey took the oven mitts from him. "Anything I can do?" he asked.

 _Stop being so damn sweet_ , Joey thought, and suddenly the heat from the oven wasn't the only thing making him sweat. Instead he said, "Step back," as he grabbed the hot casserole dish in both hands and pulled it out of the oven. As he set it down on the edge of the sink, the tip of his finger brushed the baked glass, and he let go of the dish quickly. "Shit!" he cried, sticking his finger in his mouth.

Lance was right there, reaching for his hand. "Joey, let me see," he said, trying to look at the burn, but Joey twisted away. "Joey --" Lance began, then turned on the cold water. "Run it under here."

"What happened?" Justin asked, his eyes narrowing as he watched Joey lean past Lance to stick his hand in the sink.

"Burned himself on the dish," Lance replied.

Justin held up the bowl he was scooping butter out of to spread on the bread. "Use this," he said tightly. "My mom says butter is good for burns."

Chris came into the kitchen. "That's margarine," he said. "And it's not good for burns." Pushing between Joey and Lance, Chris leaned down and looked at Joey, tiny beads of sweat sticking into the trimmed hair on his chin. "You okay?" he asked.

Joey nodded. "Fine," he said, his voice a little shaky. For all the goofing off and craziness Chris played, he was probably the only one in the room other than Joey himself who knew that it wasn't the pain from the burn that was bothering him right now. He had noticed the way Chris nonchalantly placed himself between him and Lance to cut the tension in Justin's voice. Joey sighed. If Lance thought this was going to be easy for him, just pretending his feelings didn't exist, he was so wrong. Joey could say that Lance meant nothing to him, but that was far from the truth, and when Lance stood so close to him, he found himself flustered and feverish and afraid.

Chris glanced over at Justin and Lance. "Can you guys set the table?" he asked. Joey looked up as Justin studied them for a minute -- Joey leaning over the sink, his hand under the faucet, Chris standing over him.

"Sure," Justin said, stacking the bread into a basket. Lance grabbed the salad and the handful of silverware lying on the counter, and they left the kitchen.

Once they were in the dining room, Chris leaned back against the sink. Softly, he said, "When I was in high school, I liked this girl named Sarah. We were really good friends, and before I knew it, I was in love. Or I thought I was. The only problem? She was my best friend's girl."

Joey swallowed past the lump in his throat and watched the water splash over his hand. His finger was numb from the cold but he didn't want to turn off the spigot just yet. "What did you do?" he asked quietly.

"I told her," Chris admitted. "She said she liked me but she liked my friend more."

"Did it hurt?" Joey asked.

Chris nodded. "Like a bitch. Every time the three of us were together, my heart broke all over again. Finally I realized that if I tried to come between them, I'd end up losing them both. And I didn't want that to happen. So I lost myself in a slew of girlfriends and eventually we drifted apart. Whatever I once felt for her disappeared."

Joey sighed. "It's not that easy," he said.

Chris touched Joey's shoulder. "I know you don't think so right now," he said, "but no one's ever died from a broken heart, and the wanting will go away."

"I'm such a jackass," Joey said quietly. "I've always played the field, never let anyone get too close. And then when I'm not looking --" He sighed and turned off the water. His finger started to throb where he had burned it. Drying his hand on a towel, he pulled himself together and said, "Well, dinner's ready. And Chris?" He looked at his friend and forced a smile on his face. "Thanks."

Chris clapped him on the back. "I'm here for you, man," he said. Then he picked up the casserole dish of steaming mosticolli and carried it into the dining room. On his way, he hollered, "JC! Dinner!"

Quickly JC hung up the phone and came to the table. Joey sighed again, scooped up the parmesan cheese, and headed into the dining room with the others.


	27. What a Mess!

Justin read the back of the cake mix box carefully. _At high altitudes, preheat oven to 350°._ Was New Jersey a high altitude? He didn't think so. _For a white cake, use 3 egg whites._ Well, the picture on the box was of a white cake. That's what he wanted to make. But how did you get the yellow stuff out of the egg?

Frustrated, Justin tossed the box on the counter and began digging through the kitchen cabinets, looking for flour. Now where did they keep it? Or did they even have any? _This cooking gig sucks,_ he thought sourly.

Behind him someone laughed. He turned to see Lance leaning against the doorframe, watching him. "Stop the press, Justin's cooking," he said, grinning.

"Hey, I can cook," Justin grumbled. "Do we have any flour?"

Coming into the kitchen, Lance leaned on the island counter in the middle of the room and watched Justin squat down to root through the lower cabinets. "You're not making those biscuits again, are you?" he asked, suspicious.

Justin rolled his eyes. "That was a long time ago," he said. "How was I supposed to know you can't use baking soda instead of baking powder? That's all I could find." He opened the cabinet under the sink.

"That's just cleaning stuff," Lance said. He walked around the island and opened one of the cabinets above the stove. "I think the flour is up here." He pulled down a large sack with _Pillsbury_ written across it in blue letters, but when Justin reached for it, Lance pulled it back. "What are you making?"

"A cake," Justin replied, reaching for the flour again.

Lance stepped back and kept the bag out of reach. "What's the occasion?" he asked, his eyes glistening playfully.

Justin sighed. "I just wanted to make something, okay?" He held his hand out for the flour.

Lance studied him for a minute and then said, "You can't cook, Justin. You can barely boil water. So what's the big deal about making a cake?"

Justin bit the inside of his lip and said nothing. The other night Joey had made a delicious Italian dish for dinner, and everyone raved over it. Lance kept saying over and over again how good it was, and Joey basked in the praise. Justin couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at that, even though Joey had promised to stay away from Lance. So Justin wanted to prove to Lance that he could cook, too. And a cake seemed an easy task. But if he said anything, Lance might think he was being childish. So he just pouted and waited with his hand outstretched for the flour.

But Lance was pretty good at figuring out Justin's emotions, and he sighed. "I thought you had worked everything out with Joey," he said quietly.

"I have," Justin said. "At least, I think I have. But hearing you go on and on about what a good cook he was -- well, he ate that up. And I wanted to show you I can cook, too."

Lance rolled his eyes. "He's _Italian,_ Justin. All Italians are good cooks. It's a law of nature."

"Just give me the flour," Justin said, suddenly not very interested in cooking anymore. He felt bad for thinking the way he did, but he couldn't help it. He knew Joey wasn't going to try to steal Lance from him, but the fact that Joey even felt the way he did made Justin uneasy and sad.

But Lance wasn't finished yet. "You'll have to come get it," he said, grinning. When Justin looked at him, he saw a spark in Lance's eye that made him smile.

"So _that's_ how it is," he said, calculating the distance between the two of them.

Lance nodded and held the flour above his head with one hand. Justin lunged for it, but Lance stepped backwards, his butt hitting the counter behind him as Justin pressed his body against Lance's, reaching for the flour with one hand as the other leaned on the counter beside Lance, steadying himself. His fingers brushed Lance's, and then Lance kissed him quickly on the cheek, startling him. He stepped back and Lance lost his grip on the bag. They watched it fall, a fan of white powder spraying across them, and then the bag hit the corner of the island counter and split open. Flour burst across the counter top and fell to the floor in long lines like waterfalls, the soft substance making no noise as it spread across the floor tiles. "Oh shit," Lance said softly.

Justin looked at him. A white line ran through Lance's hair, down one cheek, and down the front of his shirt. Laughing, Justin leaned forward to kiss Lance. "You think I can scoop up enough to make a cake?" he whispered.

Lance touched Justin's nose, his finger coming away white. "You're covered in flour," he said, and when Justin pressed his lips against his, Lance ran his hands around Justin's back, pulling him close. As their tongues licked each other, Justin thrust his hips gently against Lance's, suddenly aroused. He reached around Lance and knocked over the bowl he was going to use to mix the cake in. The three eggs on the counter rolled and plopped to the ground with a sticky sound.

Justin turned to see the mess. "Damn," he swore. "Those were the last ones, too."

"No cake for you today, Mr. Timberlake," Lance said, stepping around Justin carefully to avoid the flour all over the floor. "The others should be back from the store in a few minutes -- we should get this cleaned up."

Justin reached for Lance, his fingers catching Lance's belt loops on his jeans. Pulling Lance back against him, he wrapped his arms around Lance's waist and whispered in his ear, "What's the rush?"

"They went out for groceries," Lance replied. "They'll have to come in here." He pulled away from Justin reluctantly. "They'll have a _fit_ \--"

Justin stepped closer to Lance, hoping to hug him tight. But he stepped on the slick egg yolk on the floor and his foot slipped out from under him. He stumbled into Lance, reaching out to steady himself, but Lance's hands slid across the flour on his arms and Justin ran into the island. As he fell to the floor, he swept flour off the counter, and he lay on his back staring up at Lance as the flour settled on him like a blanket. "My God, Justin," Lance said, kneeling down beside him. "Are you okay?"

Suddenly Justin laughed. His back hurt and he felt extremely foolish, but the way Lance looked at him, so concerned, with flour in his hair and across his face -- Justin couldn't help but laugh. He reached up and pulled Lance down on top of him. "Justin --" Lance cautioned.

"I'm fine," Justin said, his voice thick as Lance shifted his weight onto Justin's body. "Just covered in flour."

"Maybe we should bake you instead," Lance said, grinning. He rubbed his hips against Justin's, his erection already hard beneath his jeans. "Right now I'm hungry for a little piece of you."

"No cake?" Justin teased, running his hands down Lance's back until they rested on his butt. He squeezed Lance through the jeans. Beneath his head the flour was soft and pillowy.

Lance kissed Justin, and when he pulled back, his lips were white with flour. "Not right now," Lance said. He brushed back Justin's curls and shook the flour from them. Justin blinked flour out of his eyelashes and sighed as Lance leaned down to kiss him again.

They heard the front door open, and Busta ran into the kitchen, yipping loudly. "Jesus!" someone cried. "What happened here?"

Lance scrambled to his feet, pulling Justin up as well. Justin brushed ineffectively at the front of his jeans as he watched the others pile into the kitchen, their arms full of paper bags. "You weren't trying to cook, were you?" Chris asked suspiciously.

Justin blushed. The kitchen was a mess. Joey and JC laughed as Lance brushed flour off his hands. When he turned around to get a towel, two white handprints stood out against the dark denim of his jeans, where Justin had grabbed him close. Justin ran a hand over his eyes and sighed, embarrassed. He didn't dare look at Joey, for fear of seeing the pain in his friend's eyes. Chris and JC pretended not to notice, but a sudden tension filled the room.

"Your pants are wet," JC said, pointing at the leg of Justin's jeans.

"I dropped the eggs," Justin mumbled. When he moved he felt flour sift off of the back of his T-shirt. "I'll get this cleaned up. Just ..." He sighed again. Suddenly he wanted to cry, but he couldn't understand why.

Joey came up to him and ran a hand over Justin's hair. A veil of flour fell around his face, and he looked up at Joey with teary eyes. Joey just smiled sadly. "You're not allowed in my kitchen again," he said playfully. "Admit it, man. You might be able to sing and you might be able to dance, but you sure can't cook."

Justin felt Lance's hand on the small of his back. "C'mon," he said softly. "I'll help you clean this up." Justin nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. He headed to the pantry for a broom, sorry Joey had walked in on them like that. Not just because they were getting into the mood, but because he didn't want to hurt Joey. He sighed. _As long as Lance and I are together,_ he thought, _Joey is going to be hurt._ But he couldn't give up Lance just because of that.

He hoped they could all get past this soon. Picking up the broom and a dustpan, he went back into the kitchen to clean up the mess he had made.


	28. Flying the Friendly Skies

Lance sat in the last row of seats on the airplane, his eyes shut tightly, and willed himself to relax. Tinny music poured out of his headphones, drowning out the roar of the plane's engines, but he still felt the slight vibration of his seat through his back and legs, and he gripped the armrests as if holding on for dear life. God, he hated to fly.

Someone sat down in the seat beside him, and Lance opened one eye to see who it was. Justin grinned at him. Around them the plane was dark, the only lights illuminating the aisle. Plucking the headphones off of Lance's head, Justin whispered, "I can't sleep."

Lance sighed. Without the headphones on, the sound of the engines was loud. He wondered how anyone ever managed to fall asleep on these things. "I never can," Lance admitted.

"You scared?" Justin asked, placing a hand on Lance's. The touch was comforting, warm and soft in the darkness. Justin didn't have to see his friend's slight nod -- he knew Lance was afraid to fly. Squeezing Lance's hand, he said, "It'll be okay."

"Once we land," Lance said, his voice taut.

"You need something to take your mind off the flight," Justin said, slipping his hand into Lance's lap. He brushed his fingers across the front of Lance's jeans, and despite his fear, Lance felt his groin tighten beneath Justin's touch. "You can undo your seat belt," Justin whispered, his lips against Lance's ear. He unbuckled the confining belt, and pushed it aside.

"I feel better with it on," Lance said, but as Justin fumbled with the button on his jeans, he had to admit that he was feeling pretty good just now, with or without the belt.

Justin tugged Lance's zipper down slowly, the noise barely audible, and Lance slid down slightly in his seat, spreading his legs as Justin's hand cupped his dick through his underwear. Beneath the pressure of Justin's hand, Lance felt himself harden, and he bit back a moan of pleasure as Justin stroked his budding erection through the thin fabric. Lance closed his eyes and thrust up against Justin's palm, and he heard Justin shift beside him. His lips brushed Lance's softly, and Lance opened his mouth as Justin's lips passed over his again. Justin's tongue slipped between Lance's lips, warm and wet and insistent. As his hand continued to rub Lance's cock, Justin moaned into Lance's mouth, and Lance let go of the armrests to pull Justin close.

Near the front of the plane, someone shifted in the darkness, and then Lance heard the tell-tale ding of a call button. _Shit,_ he thought, pushing Justin back. Justin looked down at him, confused, but then the stewardess passed their seats and Justin settled back into his chair. "Someone's awake," Lance whispered, reluctantly zipping up his jeans. "They might hear us."

"So?" Justin replied. "They all know."

"But we don't have to give them a show," Lance said.

As the stewardess walked past them again, Justin leaned against Lance and whispered, "I want you." A shiver ran down Lance's spine at the words. He wanted Justin, too, wanted to hold him tight and rub against him and kiss him and never let go. But they were on an _airplane,_ of all places, full of their friends and crew members and security guards, and they just couldn't get it on here. Unfortunately, Justin had other ideas, and he bit Lance's earlobe gently as the stewardess walked by again, a tray of food in her hand. She glanced at them and Lance smiled as Justin's tongue licked behind his ear. Narrowing her eyes, she hurried past them.

Lance placed a hand on Justin's chest, hoping to push him away, but Justin caught it in his own hand and held it tight. "Justin, stop," Lance whispered, though he didn't really _want_ him to stop. He wanted them to be alone, but here?

Justin released Lance's ear and whispered, "The bathroom."

"What?" Lance asked, his heart beginning to race.

But Justin was already standing up. "The bathroom," he said again, pulling Lance to his feet. "We can be alone there."

Beneath his feet, Lance felt the rumble of the plane engines. He reached back for his seat. "Justin, I don't know --"

Justin wrapped an arm around Lance's waist, pulling him into the aisle. "Just trust me," Justin said, and with his hands on Lance's waist, he steered him into the back of the plane. Lance swallowed nervously, smiling at the stewardesses they passed. "I don't know about this ..." Lance whispered as they neared the bathrooms.

Justin reached past him and pushed open one of the bathroom doors. Inside it was pitch black, and Lance stumbled against a short counter as Justin closed the door behind them and threw the "Occupied" sign into place. As Justin flicked on the lights, Lance glanced in the mirror above the counter, only to see Justin looking at him hungrily. "Don't they have intercoms in here?" Lance asked. "Everyone will hear us."

"That's just on that commercial," Justin said, reaching for Lance. His arms slid around Lance's waist, his hands spreading out against Lance's stomach, and he hugged Lance close. With his head on Lance's shoulder, Justin licked Lance's ear and then breathed against it, his breath cool and damp. His hands spread up until they teased Lance's nipples through his shirt, and Justin kissed Lance's neck. "Don't be scared," he whispered.

"I just don't like flying," Lance said, leaning into Justin's embrace. He let Justin turn him around, trailing kisses around his neck. Then he felt Justin's strong hands beneath his butt, lifting him up, and he gripped Justin's shoulders. Justin set him down on the counter, making him only a few inches taller than Justin himself, and Lance wrapped his legs around Justin, crossing his feet behind Justin's butt. Running his arms around Justin's neck, Lance pulled him close. He set his forehead on Justin's and looked into his friend's ice blue eyes.

Justin leaned up to kiss Lance, but as their lips brushed, the plane bucked beneath them. Lance tightened his grip on Justin, hugging him tight. "What's that?" he asked, his voice low.

"Turbulence," Justin replied. He ran his hands along Lance's back, soothing him. "Happens all the time."

Lance sighed. "That's not good, is it?" he whispered.

Justin smiled. "It's fine, Lance, really." To ease Lance's mind, he began kissing Lance's ear, his breath hot against Lance's skin. Lance leaned into his touch and closed his eyes, trying to forget they were a thousand miles above the ground. Justin traced Lance's chin with his tongue, licked his lips playfully, before pressing their lips together, his tongue dancing into Lance's mouth. One hand held Lance's back while the other edged around into Lance's lap, unbuttoning his jeans. As his zipper eased down, Lance felt Justin rubbing his erection through his underwear, and he thrust into Justin's touch. Breaking their kiss, Justin leaned his forehead against Lance's and whispered, "You need to start wearing boxers."

"What for?" Lance asked, his voice thick.

"Easy access," Justin replied, stroking his throbbing cock for emphasis.

Lance smiled. "Maybe you should keep your hands out of my pants," he suggested.

Justin pouted and looked at Lance with large eyes. "You don't really want me to do that, now do you?" he asked sweetly, and Lance had to admit that no, he didn't.

But Justin managed to ease Lance's erection out of his underwear, carefully sliding it free from the confines of his briefs. With one hand around his swollen shaft, Justin pulled Lance into another kiss, his hand massaging Lance's cock between them. Lance thrust into Justin's hand and moaned as Justin ran his thumb down the length of his dick, pressing tenderly, rubbing along sensitive skin. Lance held Justin's head in both hands, his legs locked behind Justin, and lost himself in their kisses as intense waves of pleasure rolled through him. When the plane bumped beneath them again, he didn't notice.

Suddenly there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Sir?" a female voice called -- a stewardess. "Sir, you have to return to your seat. We're flying through some turbulence and the pilot has ordered all passengers into their seats."

Lance groaned as Justin continued to rub his aching cock. He thrust once into Justin's hand before whispering, "No one ever leaves us alone."

"The price of fame," Justin replied, gently easing Lance's dick back into his underwear. Zipping up his pants, he kissed Lance and smiled. "At least you forgot your fear of flying for a little while."

Lance smiled back. "If we did this every time, maybe I wouldn't mind flying so much."

Justin laughed. The stewardess knocked again. "Sir?" Rolling his eyes, he flicked off the light and took Lance's hand in his. When he opened the door, the stewardess stepped aside quickly, surprised as Justin came out, Lance right behind him. Justin smiled at her while Lance ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. Then the plane rumbled again, and Justin held Lance's hand tightly as they made their way back to the main cabin. They sank into their seats, buckling their seat belts, just as the buckle light went out.

Justin sighed. "Wouldn't you know it?" he said. Beside him Lance squeezed his hand and grinned.

"There's always the return flight," he promised, already looking forward to it. He rubbed his thumb along the back of Justin's hand and thought that maybe flying wasn't _all_ that bad.


	29. Stay

A knock on the hotel door startled Lance awake. He blinked in the darkness. 2:04, his clock read. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he wondered what woke him up. He turned over in the narrow bed and yawned when the knock came again, louder this time, more insistent.

"I'm coming," Lance called out sleepily. Kicking back the covers, Lance stumbled to the door, yanking it open. Blinking at the sudden light, he saw Justin standing in the hallway, one hand raised to knock again. He wore nothing but his boxers, and his eyes were red, his forehead creased into a frown, his curls a riot on his head. "Justin?" Lance asked. "You okay?"

Justin rubbed his eyes and shook his head. When he sighed, Lance stepped aside and asked, "What's the matter?"

Stepping into the dark room, Justin slipped his arms around Lance's bare waist and tucked his head against Lance's chest. Lance pushed the door closed and enveloped Justin, pulling him close. His friend was shivering in his arms. "Justin, what's wrong?" Lance asked, concerned.

Justin sighed shakily against Lance. "My mom was in an accident this morning," he said. He sounded as if he had been crying.

"Jesus," Lance whispered, hugging Justin tight. Suddenly Lance was wide awake. "Is she okay?"

Justin nodded against Lance, his curls tickling Lance's chin. "She says she's fine. Just a small fender bender." He clenched his hands into fists against Lance's back. "But it happened this _morning._ She called me around eleven or twelve and no one told me! I didn't know anything until she left another message this evening, checking up on me. She's like I'm fine, honey, really, and I didn't know what she was talking about." Lance felt hot tears against his chest, and he ran a hand through Justin's curls. "Dammit, they didn't even _tell_ me ..."

"Shh," Lance whispered, rubbing his hand over Justin's back, soothing him. He rocked Justin gently in his arms and let him cry. Once the tears eased up, he held Justin close and prompted, "You said she was all right?"

Justin nodded. Pulling back, he wiped his nose and sniffled. "She's fine. Just a little shook up. But what if something had happened? What if she was in the hospital? Or ... or worse? What then?" He looked at Lance with dark, tortured eyes. "I would've never known. What are those people supposed to do if they don't give me my messages? Isn't that their job?"

Lance reached out and rubbed Justin's arm. "I'll talk to them in the morning. We'll find out what happened. Did you want to go home?" The thought of Justin leaving the group for a few days made his heart ache, but if that's what he needed to do, Lance would talk the others into it.

They could cancel a few shows if it meant his friend's peace of mind.

But Justin shook his head. "I'm fine," he said, though he didn't sound fine. "It just pisses me off that I wasn't told, you know?" He looked around the dark room, the red LED display of the clock snagging his attention. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I didn't realize it was so late --"

Lance shrugged. "That's what I'm here for," he said. "You." When Justin turned towards him, Lance smiled, a gesture lost in the darkness. Lance stepped closer to Justin, his hand still on Justin's arm. "It's never too late for you to come over."

He felt Justin's hand touch his chest lightly, his fingers brushing against Lance's nipples. "But we've got a long day tomorrow," he whispered, his mouth inches from Lance's own. "You should get back to bed."

"And you should get some sleep," Lance replied. He leaned forward and kissed Justin gently.

"I don't think I'll sleep well tonight," Justin admitted. Then he leaned forward and kissed Lance back, his lips lingering on Lance's.

Lance felt a heaviness settle into his groin and sighed. "Now I'm not going to sleep well," he said playfully, and he felt Justin grin against his lips.

"Then let me go. No use both of us losing sleep." Justin started to pull away, but Lance caught his hand and held it against his chest.

"Stay," he said simply.

He could almost feel Justin's gaze, studying him in the dark. "You sure?" he asked.

Lance nodded. Raising Justin's hand to his lips, Lance kissed his fingertips lightly. "We don't have to do anything," he said. "I know you probably don't feel like it right now anyway. But I want to hold you. The bed's small, but --"

"We'll fit," Justin said, stepping back. Curling his fingers around Lance's hand, he led him to the bed. He slipped under the blankets and pulled Lance down beside him. It was a tight squeeze, but with his arms around Justin, Lance shifted into a comfortable position and pulled the covers up to their shoulders. Justin snuggled against Lance's chest and sighed. "See?" he whispered, his voice a little sleepy. "There's enough room for us."

Lance kissed Justin's forehead, brushing his curls back. His bones ached and his eyes slipped closed, suddenly too heavy to keep open. He felt Justin kiss his neck, and then he fell back asleep holding Justin close.


	30. By Morning's Light

The alarm buzzed. Lance rolled over and hit the clock with his hand, knocking it to the floor, but the alarm quieted. He felt Justin shift beside him, his back pinning Lance's arm to the bed, and he tried to pull himself out from under Justin's weight. When Justin moaned in his sleep, Lance ran a hand over his friend's forehead. He smiled at the way Justin frowned as he gently rolled him back enough to free his arm. As he tried to get out of bed, though, Justin snaked his arms around Lance's waist and pulled him close.

With a sigh, Lance allowed himself to be pulled back onto the bed. Justin tucked his head against Lance's back, and Lance glanced over his shoulder to see the tips of Justin's curls against the white sheets. "Rise and shine, morning glory," he said, covering Justin's hands across his stomach with his own. Justin groaned into his back.

The phone rang. Lance fumbled with the receiver until he managed to get it to his ear, only to hear a mechanical, sexless voice intone, "Wake up call for Mr. Lance Bass." He set the receiver back down and turned around in Justin's arms. Justin raised his head slightly as Lance shifted, then when Lance ran his arm behind Justin's shoulders, Justin snuggled against Lance's chest. His eyes were still closed, but Lance thought maybe he was waking up. To hurry him along, Lance shook him slightly. "Justin, you awake?" he asked.

"No," Justin groaned. He squeezed Lance tight. "And you aren't either. Go back to sleep."

But Lance smiled and sat up, pulling Justin up with him. "Wake up, lazy."

"What time is it?" Justin asked, yawning.

Lance glanced at the clock on the floor. "A little after five," he replied.

"Jesus," Justin grumbled. "I just fell asleep." He slid under the covers, draping one arm across Lance's waist as he laid his head on Lance's hip.

"Get up," Lance said, running a hand through Justin's curls. "We've got to be out of the hotel by six. Talk show this morning, remember?"

Justin buried his head in Lance's shorts, his breath hot through the thin material, and Lance felt a familiar stirring in his crotch as each breath fanned his cool skin. "Justin," Lance warned.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Justin grinned up at Lance. "Five minutes," he pleaded. With a playful gleam in his eye, Justin growled and bit at the slight bulge in Lance's shorts, his teeth closing on empty air just inches away.

Lance tried to frown, but the kittenish look in Justin's eyes enflamed his blood and he didn't want to get out of bed. The rest of the world could wait. But Justin looked so damn cute that Lance couldn't resist teasing him a bit. Sliding to the edge of the bed, Lance said, "We don't _have_ five minutes ..." He hoped Justin would stop him.

He did. Wrapping his hands around Lance's waist, Justin pulled him back. "Five more minutes," he whispered into Lance's ear, and Lance leaned back against Justin's warm chest.

"Five," Lance said, hoping his voice sounded stern. Justin eased him down to the pillow again, his hands roaming Lance's chest, caressing him, brushing his nipples erect. Lance rolled into Justin's arms, running his hands over Justin's shoulders, across his back. He drank in Justin's smooth skin, the light downy hair on his arms, the deep blue of his eyes. Justin laid down over Lance, the hardness between his legs pressing comfortably along Lance's inner thigh. He ran his hands under the pillow behind Lance's head and pulled himself down until their noses touched. "Four," Lance whispered.

Justin kissed him quickly. "Four and a half," he said.

Lance kissed Justin back, pressing his lips to Justin's for a few seconds before pulling away. "Four," he said again, smiling.

Justin returned the smile before he leaned down and covered Lance's mouth with his. His lips parted, easing Lance's lips open, and his tongue licked around Lance's teeth, dancing over his lips, before delving inside. Beneath Lance's head, Justin's hands clutched the pillow tight, and Lance felt himself pleasantly caught between the soft pillow and Justin. As they kissed, Justin moved his knee up slightly, until it brushed at Lance's erection. Moaning, Lance leaned back and Justin pushed against him, his mouth hungry against Lance's.

When they broke apart, Lance tried to catch his breath while Justin sighed, "Three."

Lance giggled breathlessly. "Three," he agreed, nodding. Beside them on the bedside table, the phone rang.

Justin cocked an eyebrow and cuddled closer to Lance. "The wakeup call?" he asked, but Lance shook his head.

"Already got that," he replied, reaching for the phone. Justin shifted off of him slightly, and Lance caught him with his other arm, holding onto Justin's bare waist to make sure he didn't go too far. Putting the phone to his ear, he asked, "Hello?"

"Lance?" It was Joey.

"Hey Joey," Lance said, and beside him Justin groaned. "Tell him you're busy," Justin whispered.

On the other end of the phone, Joey was silent. Fear gripped Lance -­had he heard Justin? Just when he was about to say something, though, Joey asked, "Is Justin with you?"

Glancing at Justin, leaning against his shoulder, Lance said, "Yeah, why?"

"Just making sure," Joey said, his voice neutral. "When he didn't answer his call, it rolled over here. We just wondered where he was."

Lance ran a hand along the soft skin of Justin's side. "His mom was in an accident yesterday," Lance said, feeling as if he had to explain. "He was a little upset."

"Is she okay?"

Lance nodded. Then, realizing Joey couldn't see the gesture, he said, "Yeah, she's fine. He just --"

"You don't have to explain it," Joey said, cutting him off. For long minutes they sat there, listening to each other breathe, and Lance felt Justin studying him but he looked at the ceiling instead of meeting his friend's gaze. Finally Joey asked, "You two coming to breakfast? It's here already."

"Okay," Lance said, sighing. "We'll be right over." He waited until Joey hung up the phone before replacing the receiver.

Beside him Justin asked, "What did he want?"

"To know where you were," Lance replied. He looked at Justin, tracing the curve of his cheek with one finger. "Your wakeup call rolled over to him."

But Justin wasn't satisfied. "What did he say?" he asked, his voice petulant.

"Is Justin there?" Lance said, smiling. "What did you think he said? Lance, I love you and I want you?"

Justin hit him in the arm. "Shut up," he mumbled, and Lance thought Justin was probably upset that his feelings were so transparent. Sighing, Lance hugged Justin close just as he was trying to sit up, pulling him back to the bed.

"No, _you_ shut up," Lance whispered into Justin's neck before he licked along his friend's collarbone, kissing up behind Justin's ears.

Justin laughed at the touch. "I think our five minutes are up," he said, pulling away. Lance let him go.

Watching Justin kick the sheets from around his legs as he stood, Lance laid back on the pillows and asked, "You mad?"

Justin shook his head. Looking back at Lance, he smiled devilishly. "How can I be mad at you?" he asked, his gaze devouring Lance's naked chest, his spread arms, his disheveled hair. "You better get up before I can't stop myself and crawl back into that bed with you. Then we'll never get out."

"And breakfast will get cold," Lance said, stretching languidly. He felt Justin's hungry gaze and smiled. "And we can't have that."

As he disentangled himself from the sheets, Justin asked, "Can I stay here again tonight?"

Lance looked at Justin. "Do you even have to ask?" he replied. "Just set your wake up call to roll over here. Don't want Joey calling me again, do we?"

Justin kicked at him playfully. "Shut up," he said, but a grin toyed with the corners of his mouth and Lance couldn't wait for the day to be over so they could get back into the bed.


	31. A Night on the Town Part 1: Justin

Their next concert was Monday at RFK Stadium, but they flew into Dulles Airport early Friday night, eager for a weekend of free time spent in the nation's capital. Justin had asked their manager to book him and Lance a double room, hoping no one would say anything about it. No one did.

By the time they got to the hotel, darkness already draped the city. Justin unlocked their hotel room and pushed open the door. Inside were two full-size beds and a long window with open blinds. Outside the window, the lights of DC glistened wetly like a million underwater jewels. "Wow," Justin said, tossing his bag on one of the beds and walking over to the window. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker and looked out over the city below.

Lance closed the door quietly behind them and chuckled. "You should've asked for a single room," Lance said. "What are we going to do with two beds?"

Justin shrugged, not turning from the view. "One to keep our stuff on, one to sleep in. I didn't want any rumors starting. The last thing we need are tabloid headlines saying that two members of NSYNC shared a hotel room with only a single bed in it."

"True," Lance admitted. He set his duffel bag down on the bed closest to the window and unzipped it. Rifling through his clothes, he started pulling out his toiletries -- razors, soap, toothbrush. From the window, Justin said, "Come here."

Lance set down his deodorant and walked over to the window. Running one hand around Justin's waist, he stood next to him and set his head on Justin's shoulder. Justin's arm wrapped around Lance's waist, his hand settling on Lance's hip, and he hugged him close. Kissing the top of Lance's head, Justin whispered, "Isn't it beautiful?"

Lance nodded. "Hard to believe it looks so bad during the day," he said wryly.

Justin squeezed him playfully. "Such an optimist," he said, grinning. Then, suddenly, he said, "Let's do something."

"Like what?" Lance asked.

Justin shrugged. "I don't know. But it's not even nine yet, and we don't have anything scheduled until Monday. We can't waste this."

"Maybe we can try out the bed a bit," Lance suggested, looking up at Justin coyly. "Before we actually have to sleep in it."

Justin grinned wickedly. "Now _there's_ an idea." He leaned down and brushed Lance's forehead with his lips. Lance raised his head and kissed Justin, who turned towards Lance and pressed his lips to Lance's own. When his tongue slipped into Lance's mouth, Lance leaned back slightly and pulled Justin closer, gripping the flimsy fabric of his windbreaker in both hands. Justin's hand rested on the small of Lance's back, just above his hips, and he thrust his hips against Lance's. He didn't think they would make it to the bed.

The door opened. "Hey --" someone called, and Justin turned to see JC standing in the doorway, a light blush creeping into his cheeks. "Sorry, guys," he said, trying to back out of the room, but Joey and Chris were right behind him, pushing him in.

Justin turned away from Lance, but one hand still rested on Lance's back. "It's okay," he said, though his groin ached sweetly and he wanted nothing more than to toss all three of them out the window at that particular moment. Lance ran a nervous hand through his hair. Justin grinned. "So what's up?"

"We're bored," Joey said, plopping down on the first bed.

Chris looked at the two beds and frowned. "How'd you get two of these?"

Justin shrugged. "Asked for a double."

"These beds are huge!" Chris spread his arms out, trying to measure the length of the bed Joey was on. "Mine's not even half this size! Can I change with you?"

Lance laughed. "Sorry," he said.

Chris grabbed the edge of the bed and tried to tug it away from the wall. It didn't budge. "Maybe I can just take one for myself," he said, straining to move the bed. "C'mon, JC, give me a hand."

JC pushed Chris onto the bed. Joey rolled out of the way as JC sat down beside them. "I don't know about you, but all I want to do is go to bed."

Joey rolled his eyes at Lance. "You're no fun," he said. "DC is full of clubs. We can party hearty these next few days."

"I'm not in the mood for a club tonight," Justin said. "We just got off the plane. We need some downtime, but I'm sure you don't know what _that_ is."

Joey glared at Justin. "How about we take in the sights?" Chris asked. "There's lots to see here. The Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, the White House --"

"One problem," JC said, laying back on the bed. His head rested near Joey, who picked at JC's hair. JC waved his hand away, annoyed. "It's nighttime. None of the monuments are open."

"You can still see them -- they don't take them down at night," Chris said. "All lit up, no tourists to hassle with. It'll be nice."

"I'm going to sleep," JC said. "I can see the monuments some other time."

Lance smiled. "Ever the party animal, JC."

Joey glanced up at Lance. "You two wanna go?"

Lance felt Justin's hand rub against his back, and he looked over and shrugged. "Might as well," he said, his voice low. "You wanted to do something."

Grimacing, Justin replied, "Well, I _thought_ we were going to do something _else_ ..." On the bed, JC blushed again. "But if you want to, we can go. Chris is right -- it'll be fun."

Joey harped on JC long enough that he felt guilty about not hanging out with them, so when they left, JC came along too. They climbed into the back of a limo provided by the hotel, two bodyguards in tow, and headed into the city. In the limo, Justin held Lance's hand in his lap, rubbing it with his thumb. He stared out the window at the city passing them by and wished he and Lance had stayed behind at the hotel. He wished they were alone. But Joey, JC, and Chris were sitting across from them, laughing over something Lance just said, and none of them seemed to notice Justin's quiet, pensive mood. Justin sighed, remembering the feel of Lance's lips on his, Lance in his arms, and hoped they returned to the hotel soon.

The limo stopped and they climbed out. Around them the night was alive with the sounds of distant traffic and the rustling of leaves from the trees in the park where they parked. Their bodyguards stayed back far enough to allow the five friends some privacy, but were always in plain sight. Justin kept Lance's hand in his and slowed as they walked down the empty sidewalk, letting the others pull ahead.

The sidewalk wound down a slight hill, leading to the Vietnam War Memorial. The dark stone walls shone black like obsidian, lit by soft white lights. The effect was breathtaking. Up ahead Joey's laughter erupted into the night, and Justin stopped at the Memorial. Lance stopped as well, and turned towards Justin. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Justin replied, glancing at the others a few yards away. He pulled Lance closer and slipped an arm around his waist. Leaning against him, Justin breathed in the musky scent on Lance's neck and whispered, "Let's ditch them."

"What?" Lance asked, giggling as Justin's warm breath fanned his skin.

"Shh," Justin purred, stepping in front of Lance and hugging him close. He brushed his lips along the soft skin of Lance's neck, his breath hot in the cool night air. As he licked behind Lance's ear, Justin felt Lance's hands on his butt, slipping into the back pockets of his jeans. Lance moaned into Justin's curly hair as Justin thrust his stiffening erection against Lance's crotch.

Justin trailed kisses down Lance's neck, reaching up to unbutton Lance's shirt. When the first three buttons were open, Justin slid his hand inside, his fingers caressing one of Lance's nipples, teasing it erect. Bending down, Justin licked the nipple lightly, and Lance moaned his name softly, his hands easing up to rest behind Justin's head. Justin tugged the nipple gently with his teeth and grinned against Lance's chest. "Let's go back to the limo," he whispered.

"We haven't seen the monuments yet," Lance said, but the tone of his voice suggested that maybe he didn't want to see them after all.

Justin kissed him, his lips wet and hot against Lance's own. "I've seen enough," he said, his tongue slipping into Lance's mouth to lick against his teeth, his cheeks, his tongue. He ran his hands under Lance's shirt and around his waist. "Let's go back."

Lance nodded as Justin pulled away. "We should tell the others where we'll be," he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

Glancing around, Justin saw Chris and JC further down the path. They stood by a statue of army nurses, bent over to read the statue's plaque in the dim lighting. "Where's Joey?" Justin asked.

Lance looked around. "There," he whispered. Justin followed Lance's gaze to see Joey standing in the shadows nearby, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He leaned against the wall of the memorial, watching them.

Anger flared up in Justin. "Come on," he said roughly, taking Lance's hand and leading him back to the limo. As they passed Joey, Justin fought the urge to punch him. The thought of Joey watching them kiss and touch each other so intimately infuriated him. He clenched his free hand into a fist unconsciously.

Lance placed a comforting hand on Justin's arm, sensing his anger. Ahead the limo sat dark and inviting against the curb, and Justin couldn't wait to hold Lance in his arms again. _With no one gawking at us,_ he thought bitterly.

As Lance opened the door to the limo, Justin whirled back towards the memorial. "That bastard," he growled.

Lance grabbed his windbreaker in both hands, pulling him back. "Justin, leave him alone," he said.

"Damn peeping tom!" Justin shouted, hoping Joey heard him. "Fuck that, Lance. I don't like the idea of him getting off watching us, watching _you_ \--"

"We're outside," Lance pleaded. "The middle of downtown DC. He's probably not the only one who saw us."

"But he's the only one who stood there _watching,"_ Justin replied. He started away from the limo.

Lance kept his grip on Justin's windbreaker and pulled him back. Justin was strong, but when Lance wrapped his arms around his waist and held him tight, he stopped, sighing. "I don't like an audience," he said, pouting.

"Then get in the limo," Lance said softly. "The windows are tinted and we can lock the doors." He led Justin back to the open door, where the plush seats beckoned them to lie down, relax. Lance ducked into the limo and pulled Justin inside. Lance lay back against the far side and whispered, "Close the door."

With a glance back outside, Justin sighed again, trying to hold onto his anger, but a look at Lance lying there, his shirt half undone, his legs spread wide, one on each seat, and Justin felt his anger begin to dissipate. He grinned and slammed the door shut, making sure he locked it. The overhead light blinked out as he crawled over top of Lance.


	32. A Night on the Town Part 2: Joey

When Joey turned away from the nurses' statue, he saw Justin and Lance stopped in front of the Vietnam War Memorial, several feet away. Justin held Lance's hand in his own, and even from this distance Joey thought he could see the smoldering way Justin looked at Lance. Joey had never been with a guy before, and he wondered if kissing one would be as arousing as kissing a girl. He had hoped Lance would let him find out, beyond the brief press of lips when he woke Lance up with a kiss. With Lance's soft-spoken Southern manners and his pretty green eyes, Joey had thought perhaps he could lose himself to Lance. The idea of falling in love with someone who was always close at hand, in the studio or on tour, was appealing.

Suddenly Joey had an idea. He would sneak around the memorial and jump out down by where Justin and Lance were. Already they held each other close, and a pang of jealousy stabbed through Joey. He'd jump out and give them a good scare, just enough to pull them apart. It didn't seem fair that they had each other on this balmy, starry night and Joey had no one.

He slipped away from Chris and JC, his sneakers swishing faintly in the damp grass behind the wall. When he eased around the side of the memorial, he saw Lance's arms encircling Justin's back. Lance's eyes were closed and Justin's head was bent to Lance's chest. His shirt was partially open, and Lance moaned Justin's name. The breathless sound enflamed Joey's blood, and he felt a heaviness in his groin as he heard their slight moans, the wet sounds of Justin's lips on Lance's skin. Changing his mind about startling them, Joey leaned against the memorial, the stone cold through his light sweater. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and watched Justin kiss Lance hungrily. Seeing them touch each other tenderly made Joey's arms ache to hold somebody, _any_ body.

Justin murmured something quietly, and Lance flushed in the darkness. They looked around, probably looking for the others, and Lance noticed Joey in the shadows. Justin turned and glared at him. Whatever witty comment Joey was going to make died on his lips when he saw the anger burning in Justin's eyes. As he was about to apologize for watching them, Justin pulled Lance away, heading for the limo.

A dull ache gripped Joey's groin again as he watched them walk away. He thought of them rolling around in the back of the limo, steaming up the windows, and he sighed. _Damn,_ he thought. Another night alone wasn't something he looked forward to.

From the direction of the limo, Joey heard Justin raise his voice. He heard the words "peeping tom" and "fuck that," and he closed his eyes in frustration. No matter what he did, Justin seemed bent on hating him. _I'd hate me too,_ he thought. _Can't keep away from them, as if I like making myself depressed._

"Where'd they go?" Chris asked, coming up to stand beside Joey.

Joey shrugged. "The limo," he said, grimacing. "Horny asses."

"What's wrong with you?" JC asked.

"Nothing," Joey said. "Everything. Shit, I don't know." Turning away, he called out, "I'm going to a club. Get drunk and get laid. Don't wait up for me."

He hurried through the dark streets of downtown DC. Around him a few people lingered here and there, beneath blazing lights that pushed back the night. As he headed into the center of the city, he saw more and more people, in groups or alone, leaning against the sides of buildings, calling out to the cars passing by, having fun out on the town. Joey ignored them as he walked, looking for a club. Any club would do -- the first one he came to that served alcohol and played its music loud.

As he walked, he admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as smitten with Lance as he first believed. True, Lance was sweet, and very nice, and sometimes the way his eyes flashed made Joey's heart ache, but he never liked guys before. Joey was a ladies' man, always on the prowl. With the release of their latest album, he had spent more and more time with the band, and he was getting lonely. And when he saw the way Lance looked at Justin, before either of them even admitted there was something there between the two of them, maybe Joey had wanted someone to look at him in that way, too. And that led to a small crush on Lance, which blossomed into something larger once Joey realized Justin and Lance were together. _Nothing like knowing someone's off limits to get you interested,_ he thought bitterly. Maybe, just maybe, he was only interested in Lance because he couldn't have him.

After walking for what seemed like hours, Joey stumbled upon a well-lit area packed with people and cars. Several clubs lined the street, neon lights beckoning seductively. Lines curved around the sidewalk and into the streets for some places, but Joey found the shortest line and got in it. _Tracks,_ the sign above the door proclaimed in rainbow hues. Music bled out into the streets, and Joey hoped this wasn't one of those dance clubs that played Top 40 hits -- he'd hate to be hitting on someone to one of NSYNC's own tunes.

When he got to the door, he was stopped by a burly black man with a shaved head and more earrings in his eyebrows than Joey had in both of his ears combined. "Eight bucks," the bouncer barked.

Joey fished out his wallet. Digging for the money, he asked, "Drinks any good here?"

"Need to see some ID," the man replied.

 _Not exactly what I asked,_ Joey thought, flashing his New York driver's license. The bouncer cinched a plastic orange strip to Joey's left wrist and, taking his cover charge, flicked his thumb back into the club, indicating that Joey should move along.

Inside the place was dark, lit by rainbow strips of neon tubing that ran the length of the room. A few tables were shuffled to one side of the room, and a bar ran along the other wall. Beyond the small room, a larger dance floor opened up, bright with dazzling lights and sparkling tubes of different colors that ran from the floor to the ceiling. An amateur band stood on a small stage at the far end of the club, belting out loud guitar rifts and snazzy drum solos, and little else. Wall to wall, the place was packed with people.

Smiling, Joey headed for the bar. He set a fifty dollar bill onto the counter and waited for the bartender. "The strongest you have," he said, pushing the fifty over. The boy behind the bar made it disappear. "And keep 'em coming until that's gone." The boy nodded and set a tall glass of frothy amber liquid in front of Joey.

He downed the drink in one gulp. Then, when the liquor hit his system, he stumbled onto the closest barstool. "Jesus," he whispered as the bartender refilled his drink. The alcohol curled warmly into his stomach, and he threw back the next glass, as well. When it was gone, he shook his head, blinked back tears, and the bartender refilled his glass again.

Beside him, two girls at the bar were watching him. "Hey," he said, grinning, but they just looked at him in disgust and turned away. Frowning, Joey sipped this next drink, letting his gaze wander around the club. Then he saw her.

She stood off the dance floor, against the wall. She wore a black outfit -- tight pants and a black jean jacket, it looked like. She had soft auburn curls and large dark eyes, and she was looking around the club as if she were lost. Drink in hand, Joey pushed away from the bar and staggered over towards her. He was surprised to find that after just two drinks, he couldn't seem to walk straight. He'd have to ask the bartender what it was he was drinking.

As he got closer, he noticed the girl was about his age. She saw him approach and looked away, her gaze on the dance floor. Joey leaned beside her against the wall and smiled. "Hey, gorgeous," he shouted over the noise of the band.

She looked at him, taking in his hair, his face, his drink, and after a long moment he thought maybe she wasn't going to answer. Then she laughed and shouted back, "Hey, yourself."

"What's your name?" he asked. It was as good a start as any.

She shrugged. "Marie," she said, looking back over the crowd. "You?"

"Joey," he said. Even over the smell of sweat and flesh in the club, he caught a whiff of warm musk and leaned close to her, breathing in the heady scent. "You here with someone?"

"My friend," Marie said. She pointed out into the people dancing. "She's over there."

Joey glanced over but didn't see anyone in particular. Turning back to her, he suggested, "Maybe we can go somewhere quieter?"

The look she gave him was startling. "You're either very brave or very stupid," she said, smiling. "Trying to pick up chicks in a gay club?"

"Gay?" Joey asked, spitting out the word as if he had never heard it before. He gulped down his drink and looked around. "This is a gay club?"

"The rainbow signs didn't give you a clue?" Marie asked, giggling.

Joey turned back to her. "So you're --" That explained why the girls at the bar had been unimpressed with him.

Marie laughed again. "I'm just here with Melanie. She's mad at her boyfriend and thought she'd hang out here for a while. I'm not into the whole club scene myself, and I'm definitely not looking to go home with anyone tonight." She looked pointedly at him. "Male or female."

"I need another drink," Joey mumbled, suddenly feeling very small and lost. "But I'd still like to talk to you."

"A few more drinks and you won't be _able_ to talk," Marie said. Then, seeing the forlorn look on his face, she nodded. "I'll meet you outside in five minutes. Just to talk."

Joey weaved back towards the bar. The bartender saw him coming and refilled his glass when he set it down. Someone clapped him on the back and Joey turned to find a broad, muscular man with short cropped hair grinning at him. "Hey there," he said.

Joey grinned back. "Hey yourself," he said, thinking of Marie.

The other guy studied him for a second. "You looking for a good time?" he asked, winking.

Fear erupted in Joey's body. "Already found one, thanks," he mumbled, pulling away from the bar.

But the strong stranger blocked his path. "I think you want to come with me," he said, his grip tight on Joey's shoulder. "I think you want me to fuck your brains out."

Joey blanched. That was the last thing Joey wanted right now. He had to get outside, get to Marie, get out of there. "Can I buy you a drink?" he stammered. Motioning to the bartender, he said, "Give my friend a drink. It's on me." Turning back to the muscle man who held him in a grip of steel, he smiled what he hoped to be a winning smile and said, "I gotta tell my sister I'm leaving. I'll be right back."

"That chick with you?" the guy asked, suspicious, but he took the drink the bartender offered.

Joey nodded. "Be right back," he promised, managing to slip out from under the other's grip. Once free, he ran to the doors. Pushing through the crowd trying to get inside, he ignored the bouncer telling him to get his hand stamped and walked away from the club. The night air cooled his face and cleared his senses a bit, but his head began to spin and he tossed the rest of his drink away. _Jesus,_ he thought, pressing a hand to his temple. _What the fuck was in that?_

"Joey?" someone called. Joey looked around to find Marie, hugging herself against the chill. "You okay?" Her face was pale and drawn in the light of the streetlamp, and concern laced her voice.

Joey stumbled towards her. "Fine," he mumbled, hoping that Hercules didn't want him bad enough to come outside looking for him when he never returned. "Just a little woozy ..." He leaned against the streetlamp, steadying himself. "I'll be fine --"

Marie ran a cool hand across his fevered brow. "You sure don't look fine," she said. "How are you getting home?"

 _Home,_ Joey thought, and laughed bitterly. "Home is a million miles away," he said, his voice sad.

"Well, where are you staying?" she pressed. "Do you have any friends here?"

"They all hate me," Joey choked. He looked at her as she ran her hand down his cheek. "I'd hate me too," he admitted. He kissed her palm when her hand neared his mouth. "I'm so lonely."

She bit the inside of her lip and looked at him with large blue eyes that he wanted to drown in. "You're drunk off your ass," she said gently. "If you weren't, I might consider going home with you."

"I sober up quickly," Joey promised, taking her hand in both of his and pressing her palm against his lips.

But Marie shook her head. "I'll give you my number," she said. "I'll help you get home. But I'm not going with you."

Joey sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. _Striking out all over,_ he thought grimly. _Should go take that guy up on his offer. At least you won't be so alone._ But he didn't want that guy -- he didn't want the hard planes of a male body pressed against his. He wanted the soft curves of a woman snuggled against him -- he wanted Marie. Looking at her with the saddest expression he could muster, he asked, "You won't reconsider?"

Marie shook her head again. "I'm sorry, Joey, really. I'm not that type of girl."

Suddenly he was very, very tired. He wanted to be back at the hotel, but the thought of trying to find the limo exhausted him. "I don't know where my car is," he mumbled, the weight of his drinks buckling his mind. "I don't know where my friends are --" He had never felt more alone than he did at that moment, with Marie standing so close to him, her hand in his, and her refusing to come home with him.


End file.
